


Dear Angel

by IWriteSinsNotEssaysOk



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate universe to basically whatever I need idk, Character Deaths, Domestic Cockles, First Kiss, First Time, Horror, Love Confessions, M/M, Misha won't be acting like himself for a while but don't worry he'll be back to normal soon(ish), Psychological Thriller, Rape, Serial Killer, This is going to be dark as fuck, You Have Been Warned, single Misha, single jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4728344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteSinsNotEssaysOk/pseuds/IWriteSinsNotEssaysOk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every week another boy was killed in different horrifying ways, but all the murders had two things in common: All of the boys were dressed as Castiel, and all of the bodies ended up inside a church.</p><p>A drowning where the baptisms took place,  chopped up into tiny pieces and slipped into the church pews, throat ripped out while positioned on the preacher's podium, hung from the ceiling and crucified; the serial killer was an artist, and after every single murder, they'd leave a letter for him.</p><p>"Dear Angel,"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bloodshot

Chapter 1: Bloodshot

"Alright, that's a wrap! Great job, guys!"

Misha shook Cas off, coming back into reality.

He watched as Jensen did the same, slipping out of Dean's character like a jacket.

Jensen turned to him, and grinned.

"Pretty intense, huh?"

Misha laughed.

"Yeah, I don't know how much more of this Cas can take."

Jensen chuckled, but he quickly sobered as he walked closer to Misha with a look of concern.

"What about you? How are you holding up?"

Misha sighed.

He knew what Jensen referring to. 

His normal larger than life, outgoing, fun, sociable, smartass personality had been off kilter. The bags under his bloodshot eyes made it very apparent that he hadn't gotten a goodnight sleep in ages.

He didn't talk, walk, react or even act the same way he normally would.

He was almost a different person entirely.

"You worry too much." He said, waving the younger man off.

"Misha, drop the bullshit." Jensen glared, before his features softened again. "Did you get another letter?"

There it is.

The dreaded letters.

A month ago, Misha had received a mysterious letter that was labeled "Dear Angel", and only had three words in it:

"Ready to play?"

It had been signed by the pen name The Devil's Messenger.

At first, he had blown it off. It was probably just someone on the set trying to mess with him.

That is, until he's turned on the news two days later.

The horrifying image of the screen was enough to make him nauseous.

There was a teenage boy dressed as Castiel hanging from the ceiling of a church.

Except he wasn't just hanging; his arms and legs had been nailed to a large wooden cross in a brutal act of crucifixion. His left hand had been cut off.

When Misha had gone to work the next morning, another letter was lying neatly on top of the microwave inside his trailer.

This time it read: 

"Dear Angel, now that I've got your attention, I've left you a little present."

Misha had made the mistake of opening his microwave door without calling the police first because as soon as he did, the smell of blood filled the air.

There, on the heating plate, was the boy's missing hand, complete with a purity ring.

After that, every week another boy was killed in different horrifying ways, but all the murders had two things in common: All of the boys were dressed as Castiel, and all of the bodies ended up inside a church.

A drowning where the baptisms took place, chopped up into tiny pieces and slipped into the church pews, throat ripped out while positioned on the preacher's podium; the serial killer was an artist, and after every single murder, they'd leave a letter for him

The Devil's Messenger was on the news 24/7, and the police were stumped. 

With every attack, the next would be a little closer to Misha.

The one good thing the police had done was station three officers outside his house.

Misha still didn't feel safe. It didn't matter where he was.

The only time that he ever felt a sense of security was when he was with Jensen.

Jensen, who always stood outside his trailer while he changed.

Jensen, who walked him to his car and waited until he drove of before leaving himself.

Misha had never told him to do these things, but he did them anyway.

"No." He said softly. "Not yet."

..........................................

When both of the actors were changed into their regular clothes, Jensen took Misha by the arm, and lead him over to his impala.

He'd gotten one that looked exactly like Baby.

"My car is over there." Misha said in confusion, gesturing across the parking lot.

Jensen walked around to the side of his car that Misha was standing by, and opened the side door.

"You can get it tomorrow. Tonight, you're staying with me."

"Jensen...." Misha started to protest.

"Don't "Jensen " me! Get your ass in the car! "

.............................................................

Misha ended up falling asleep on Jensen's shoulder.

They'd had a classic movie marathon, and Misha's eyes had begun to drop near the end of 'Gone With the Wind'.

When he woke up, he realized that he was alone on the couch.

A sense of fear washed over him, and he stood up, letting the blankets that had been covering him fall to the floor.

"Jens-"

Misha turned his head to the side, and his body relaxed.

In an arm chair beside the couch, sat Jensen; sound asleep.

He was snoring softly, and Misha couldn't help but smile.

He looked over at the clock that was hanging above the large flat screen TV, and was shocked to find that it was one in the afternoon.

They were supposed to be on set by 12:30.

"Fuck!"

...........................................................

The two men went about 25mph over the speed limit, and when they finally arrived at the studio, Kripke was waiting for them.

"Where the hell have you been!?" He yelled.

Jensen glanced at Misha, and opened his mouth to cover for him, but Misha beat him to it.

"Sorry, Eric. It was my fault. I uh... I slept in."

Eric looked back and forth between Jensen and Misha before surprising them both by chuckling.

"Good. You needed it."

Misha was a little taken aback.

"Um yeah... Thanks."

Eric sighed.

"Alright, get dressed. We're burning daylight here."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Jensen nudged Misha's shoulder.

"I'm glad you're rested, buddy."

Misha nodded.

"I'd almost forgotten what it felt like."

He flashed Jensen a small smile.

"Thanks to you."

Jensen waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Maybe we should sleep together more often."

Misha laugh, and pushed Jensen away.

"You wish."

"Misha!" A director's assistant called out. "We need you in five!"

"Ok!" He answered, turning back to Jensen.

"After we're through for the day, I'm taking you out to dinner to repay you."

Jensen grinned.

"I can live with that."

........................................................................... 

Misha was always an amazing actor no matter what part he was playing.

The way he carried himself was absolutely delicious.

He was perfect.

The man watched as Misha reviewed his script from in between two large trailers. 

He smirked.

"Time for liven things up."

 

........................................................................................

Holy shit, what am I doing writing this? Idk why I'm writing different fics so much lately. I have others I need to finish.... BUT YEAH.

Misha is in a deadly game with a serial killer! It's going to be bloody amazing!

............... No one? Ok.

I honestly don't know what else say because this is just my curiosity and imagination running wild, but if you could please review, I'd really appreciate it :)

P.s. sorry for typos. I'm a piece of shit.

-Maddie


	2. Scream For Me

Chapter 2:

Misha had been sleeping at Jensen's for a month and a half.

His car was in the driveway, half his clothes were in Jensen's closet, and his tooth brush was next to Jensen's in the bathroom.

It was hilarious watching Jensen try to explain to people that they were living together but they weren't "together together".

Misha had been laughing more these days. The Messenger had been silent for four weeks, and he was almost himself again. The nation was ecstatic.

His fans were amazing, as per usual, and their support had helped lift his spirits a lot.

Currently, they were on set filming another serious Dean and Castiel scene.

"I'm a cancer to you, Cas!" Dean yelled. "The more you try and save me, the more I'm killing you!"

"That's not true!" Cas protested, taking a step closer so that he was looking the hunter straight in the eyes.

Destiel? Destiel.

"I'm very grateful that I have you in my life!"

Dean the his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"You're grateful? Really? Ok, Cas! Name ONE THING that I've given you within the last few weeks that you're grateful for!"

Misha took this moment to look up at Jensen from under his eyelashes in the most filthy way possible, and whisper,

"That ass."

Jensen tried, but he didn't get to five seconds before he broke character.

"Goddamn it, Misha!"

The entire crew was howling with laughter, and Misha was grinning from ear to ear.

"Ok, ok!" Kripke said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Let's do it one more time, so we can all go home! No fucking around!"

"Copy that." Misha responded, getting back in his original spot.

"Has anyone seen George?" Eric called out, looking around for his missing assistant. "Guess we'll have to do it without him...."

"I'm going to get you back for that." Jensen grumbled.

"Looking forward to it." Misha smirked.

"ACTION!"

.................................................................................................................................

When Kripke announced that they were done for the day, Jensen wasted no time in whacking Misha on the head with the palm of his hand.

"OW!"

"That was the eighth time you made me screw up today, you asshole!"

Misha laughed.

"You love me."

"Yeah, yeah." Jensen rolled his eyes, but he was fighting a smile.

"So tell me, Mr. Ackles." Misha winked, leaning against his trailer. "Would you like to take me home tonight?"

Jensen's ears turned red.

"Misha, we live together."

Misha grinned.

"You're so forward."

"Can we just go home?"

"What're you gonna do to me when we get there?"

"How about lock you in a room, and wait until you pass out so that I can dump you off at Jared's?"

"I love it when you talk dirty."

"Misha, I swear to God!"

........................................................................................................................................

(3:45 AM)

George struggled against the ropes that were holding him for the forty seventh time in the last seven hours to no avail.

Thick duct tape covered his mouth so that he couldn't cry for help, and a black bandana was placed over his eyes, preventing him from seeing. 

When he had been taken, it had been really early on the set.

George was always the only one there because he liked to plan out his entire day in silence.

He'd had his back turned when someone had come up behind him, and chloroformed him.

He had woken up here, in what he could tell was somewhere underground.

Suddenly, he heard a rumbling from above him, signaling that a car had come up.

'This is where I die.....'

A door opened, and he heard slow, casual footsteps.

The footsteps stopped right in front of him, and George was literally shaking in fear.

He felt the duct tape being ripped off his mouth, and he immediately began begging.

"Please don't kill me!" He sobbed.

His bandana was snatched away as well, and George's eyes had to adjust to the light

What he saw when they finally did was something that made his whole body freeze in shock.

"You?" He whispered. "You're the-"

"The Devil's Messenger, yes. I know, I know. Everyone's surprised at first, but that's ok. You'll get over it real soon. Ready to have some bloody fun?"

The man let out a cold laugh, and the shock George was feeling, was replaced with sheer terror as he watched the Messenger take out a case of bloody knives.

" You don't have to do this! "

"You really think so?" The Murderer pretended to look thoughtful.

"Please...." The assistant pleaded. "I thought we were friends! I thought that-"

"You poor bastard." The man scoffed. "Do you really think that guy you're talking about really exists? That's cute."

"Now, I know you're good behind a camera." The man smirked. "But what I've been wondering is if you're any good at acting. So c'mon. Give me your best scream. Go ahead."

George didn't need to be told twice.

"HELP ME! SOMEBODY! PLEASE! HELP-"

He was silenced by a back hand hard enough to make him taste blood.

The serial killer shook his head in mock disappointment.

"I don't believe you. I don't believe you want to be saved, Georgie. That just didn't do it for me. But hey, that's perfect normal. Everyone needs some training when they first start out...."

George's eyes widened as he watched the Messenger pull out the largest knife from his collection.

He flipped the knife in his right hand, and used his left hand to grab George by the hair, and pull him up so that they were face to face.

The Messenger grinned.

"Now let's work on that scream, shall we?"

...............................................

........... Well there's chapter two.

Misha is Misha again. That's good. Jensen and him are living together. That's cool.

And then we have that last scene......... Yeah.

So the Devil's Messenger is someone who knew George would be on set. First clue!

Also, he's one evil son of a bitch. I love writing psychopaths ^_^

Anyway, pleeeeeeease review, I need encouragement to keep going!

P.s. sorry for typos. I'm a piece of shit.

-Maddie


	3. Afraid of the Dark

(3:45 am)

"I like you crying. It's actually a huge turn on."

The Messenger stood over Julie with a hot iron in his hand, and his left foot on her stomach.

"This isn't you!" She yelled. "This can't be you!"

He pretended to pout.

"You really think so?"

The actress tried to push him off, but he was too strong.

"You don't have to do this!"

The Messenger sighed.

"Oh, Honey. You just don't get it, do you?"

He teasingly ran the iron centimeters above her body, making her sob harder.

"The thing is, Julie. You're an angel, and I can't have that."

"I only play an angel!" She cried. 

The serial killer laughed.

"Yeah, I know. To be honest, I haven't played with many women. Which is why I'm going to keep you alive."

She breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived.

"How long unt-"

She never got to finish her sentence before she let out a blood curdling scream.

The Messenger took the iron off her skin with a sickening grin.

She writhed on the ground, before finally losing consciousness.

He made quick work of shackling her hands above her head, and chaining her feet to the wall.

The man inhaled the smell of burning flesh with a smile.

"All in due time, Darlin. All in good time."

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

(8:49 pm)

"Happy birthday!"

The cast and crew of Supernatural were gathered around Misha, congratulating him on his forty-second birthday.

"Thanks, guys." He smiled, obviously very happy.

The crowd parted, and Jensen and Jared emerged with what appeared to be a large cake. There was a cloth concealing it from view.

The two actors looked at each other and counted down, "Three.... Two.... One!"

They ripped the cloth away, and Misha barely had time to read the word, "sucker" before the entire crew bombarded him with different pies.

"Fuck!" He yelled, attempting to wipe the assortment of desserts off his face.

The entire set had been in on it, and they were all crying with laughter.

Jared had to lean against a wall to support himself so that he wouldn't fall into the ground.

"I know you wanted cake, but you got pie." Jensen wheezed. "That's close enough right?"

The reference to the famous quote from the show sent everyone into another fit of hysteria.

Misha was trying not to laugh, but it wasn't in his nature to stay mad for very long.

"Ok, whose idea was this?"

Jensen held up his hand; a shit eating grin on his face.

"Payback's a bitch."

The older man reached out to smack him, but he jumped to the side, giggling gleefully.

"No, but seriously," Jensen rolled out an actual cake from behind a trailer."Happy birthday, man."

Misha beamed, and opened his arms to embrace his friend.

Jensen pulled away, looked down at his shirt, and chuckled.

"Pie hugs are surprisingly bearable:"

"Well now I'm jealous!" Jared said, throwing himself at his shorter co-star.

Misha caught him, and took this moment in time to scrape a large piece of cherry pie off his shoulder, and smash it all over Jared's face.

"Ok, I deserved that." Jared sighed.

"Damn, now I want cherry pie." Jensen laughed.

Misha grinned, turning around to look at the brunette.

"Well I think I still have some on my lips if you want it that bad...."

He approached his co-star, and Jensen's cheeks became stained with pink.

"I'm good."

Misha continued to descend on him.

"I know you want me." The dark haired man purred.

"Mish-"

He didn't get a chance to finish his protesting, because Misha had already grabbed the front of his shirt, and smashed their lips together.

Misha used his index finger to push him away, and was pleased to see the brunette's eyes were widened with shock, and his mouth was open like a fish. His green eyes were a darker shade, and his pupils had dilated a considerable amount.

The entire was crew was dying, but Jensen’s expression remained the same.

Misha raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t see why you’re so surprised. I had to thank you for my delicious assault somehow.”

Jensen coughed a somewhat strangled laugh.

“So I guess I don’t have to give your birthday present now, huh?”

“You got me a present?”

“Of course I got your a present!” Jensen said. “I’m not Jared!”

“Hey!” Jared protested. “I got him a present too!”

“Yeah, from K-Mart!”

“It’s not from K-mart, asshole!” 

“I honestly don’t care where it’s from.” Misha shrugged. “If you got me something, I love it already.”

Kripke clapped Misha on the shoulder.

“On that note, I think it’s time to open ALL of your presents.”

The group walked over to the table where the birthday cake was sitting.

Jensen gave Misha a halfhearted push.

“I knew you wanted to kiss me.”

Misha grinned.

“Considering how you looked when I pulled away, it’s safe to say that you’re the one with the fantasy.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, and sighed dramatically.

“Maybe I should take your present back. You seemed to have already gotten everything you wanted from me today.”

Misha winked suggestively.

“Not everything.”

Jensen snorted, but he was still trying to cover up the fact that he was blushing.

“I”m sure.”

 

………………………..

 

The semi-birthday party was awesome, and when it was over, Misha gave every single person on the cast, and crew a huge hug.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” Jared whined.

Misha laughed.

“I can if you want.”

Jared pondered the offer, but Jensen came up and tapped Misha on the shoulder.

“It’s getting dark. We should get going.”

“Possessive much?” Jared teased.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Jensen said sarcastically. 

Misha gave Jared another hug, before turning, and walked over to Jensen’s car.

It was getting late, and Jensen knew how he felt about the dark.

No one had mentioned the letters, or the Messenger the whole time, and Misha was extremely grateful.

His friend helped him get his presents in the car, before they got in, and drove off the set.

“So, I know that the real party is tomorrow, but how was today?” Jensen asked.

“It was good.” Misha concluded. “Really good.”

Jensen smiled.

“Awesome.”

 

…………………………

 

They pulled into Jensen’s driveway, and gathered up all of Misha’s gifts; taking them into the house.

“Alright,” Misha put down the last item. “So do y-”

Jensen had him up against the wall, and was kissing him like the world was going to end.

Misha immediately reciprocated, and tugging younger actor closer.

When they finally separated, Misha rested his forehead against Jensen’s.

“What the hell was that?” He breathed.

Jensen laughed.

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

Misha grinned, and pulled him back in for another kiss.

“Better late than never.”

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

(3:45 am)

The boy couldn’t be more than eighteen.

“How old are you, buddy?”

“Seventeen.” He cried. “Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone!”

The Messenger chuckled.

“You really think so? Well, I don’t think you’re getting why I’m doing this.”

The man picked up his steel bat, and twirled it in between his fingers.

“You see, you’re part of something much greater than your pathetic normal life. It’s an honor really. Aren’t you honored?”

The boy nodded quickly; trying his best to quiet his crying.

His body was on the ground in the walkway of the large church.

The Messenger grinned, “Are you ready to play a little baseball, kid?”

The boy’s blue eyes widened.

“Please! Please don-”

The serial killer swung his bat down onto his captive's right arm.

The sound of the bone breaking, and the boy screaming were music to his ears.

“Strike one!” He announced gleefully

“Stop!” The kid shouted.

This time the bat connected with his legs, and his scream was even louder.

“Damn, I guess that’s strike two….” The man sighed, shifting his stance. “Well third time's the charm.”

When he slammed the side of the bat into the boy’s ribs, the kid’s pleas were cut short by the spurt of blood that shot out of his mouth.

“What do you know! It’s out of the park!” The serial killer crowed.

He brought down his weapon on the boy’s chest again, and he laughed when his captive’s cries became exact copies of the over the top screams from horror movies.

The child’s sobbing, and screaming was becoming more indistinguishable due to the blood that was flowing out of his mouth.

The man hit him again, and again; giggling as he watched the light begin to fade out of the boy’s eyes.

He paused for a moment, and even though the boy was drowning in his own blood, he still managed to raise his left arm slightly.

“Please….” He whispered. “I-”

Blood sprayed throughout the entire church when the steel bat connected with the his head.

The Messenger crouched by the kid to admire his work.

The boy’s caved in skull contrasted with the blood cascading down the front of his body beautifully.

The Messenger grinned, using his boot to crush the rest of the kid’s remaining ribs.

“That’s the ball game, folks!”

 

……………………………………………………….

Holy shit, that was dark! Lol I am so messed up *looks out window into the distance*

But yeah, the Messenger has got Julie. But there are more angels right? 

Jensen and Misha *fangirl scream* I love them so much haha. And apparently, all it took was Misha kissing him as a joke….. Where are they going to go from here?

The last part…. oh my god, when I finished writing that I was just like….. “What the FUCK is wrong with me!!!???”

Jared, and Jensen banter is literally the best.

I know that this isn't near Misha's birthday, but it fit the plot so.... yeah.

Pleeeeeease tell me if you liked it or not! Reviews make me want to write more :3

I mean, I have other stories to write so.....

Until next time!

p.s I am sorry for typos. I’m a piece of shit.

-Maddie


	4. Devil May Cry

(3:45 am)

 

The Messenger sighed happily as he wiped away the tears of blood rolling down the child’s face.

“I know this is the part where I tell you that the pain is almost over, but I’d hate to lie to you.” He said, running his hand across his victim’s face lovingly.

He took a few steps back to admire his work.

There, strapped to a church pew, was a boy.

He was very much alive, the tears rolling down his cheeks proved that.

His eyelids had been stapled to open so that his bright blue eyes could clearly be seen, and the serial killer had just started the grand finale of his artwork:

Sewing the boy’s mouth open so that it was in a permanent silent scream.

The Messenger giggled, puncturing another hole in the boy’s lips.

The tears cascading down his captive’s chin was dripping on the floor steadily.

Drip… drip… drip… drip….

It made a nice rhythm for the Messenger to work to.

“Alright kid, now I promised I’d tell you before I went for the throat.”

Somehow, it was possible for the boy’s blue eyes to widen even more, and he tried to squirm away.

“Hey now, none of that.”

The Messenger took out his knife kit, and flipped through it casually.

He decided on a small carving blade that he saved for situations like this.

“This is going to hurt.” He grinned.

Reaching out, he quickly swiped the knife across the child’s throat, and the blood immediately began to gush out of the medium sized cut.

He watched with an emotionless expression as the boy began to choke on his blood, and finally stilled.

“Gotta love kids.” The Messenger smirked, wiping off the bloody knife on his shirt.

He looked at the stained knife on his wrist.

“Oh shit, I’m late for my appointment!”

The boy’s bright blue eyes remained open as he walked out of the church.

…………………………………………………………………………………

 

(8:54 pm)

Misha blinked open his bright blue eyes, and stretched out his limbs.

He gazed at the man beside him with a lazy smile, before reaching out, and shaking him.

“Jen, time to wake up.”

Jensen yawned, and pull the covers over his head.

“Five more minutes.”

Misha laughed, and slipped out of bed.

“Fine, I’ll just take the impala, and go.”

That got Jensen up.

“Hell no! You’re not taking my baby away from me.”

“Alright, Dean.” The older actor took off the shirt he was wearing, and moved to get in the shower, but Jensen caught him.

“Did you know that if everyone shared one shower a day, we could save up to eight thousand gallons of water?”

“I think I remember reading that somewhere.” Misha mused.

Jensen grinned.

“For the environment, then.”

………………………………..

When the two men got out of the shower, and dressed for work, they ran by a Starbucks on their way to the set.

Of course, they got recognized immediately.

“Hi there.” Misha smiled at the teenage girl who looked like she was going to faint.

“OH. MY. GOD.”

Jensen, who was a little less comfortable than Misha, gave a small wave.

“What’s your name?” Misha asked casually.

“HI, I’M SARA.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Misha, and this is Jensen.”

“HI, I’M SARA.”

The dark haired man giggled.

“Alright, Sara. Can we please get our order now?”

Misha was sure that their order was given to them faster than anyone’s order had ever been given in the history of Starbucks.

“CAN I PLEASE GET A PICTURE?” She asked. “I PROMISE I WON’T CALL ANY OF MY FRIENDS OVER UNTIL YOU’RE GONE!”

Misha laughed, “Sure, sweetheart.”

In a flash, the girl had her phone out, and had already taken about seventeen pictures.

“THANK YOU SO MUCH!” She looked like she was going to cry.

“No problem.” Jensen said. “Ok, bye now.”

The girl’s hand looked like it was going to fall off because of how hard she was waving it.

As they drove off, Jensen chuckled, and took a sip of his coffee.

“Gotta love kids.”

 

……………………………………………………………………………….

 

Castiel reached out to touch Dean’s face, but Dean slapped his hand away.

“Don’t, Cas. I can’t... just stop.”

Castiel watched with his sad puppy dog expression as Dean left him in the cold.

“AND… CUT!”

Someone immediately ran out, and draped a blanket around Misha’s shoulders.

The writers were doing that thing again where Destiel was so obviously canon it was sickening, while still making Destiel not be canon, and Jensen was still in denial about Destiel completely.

“Take a break, guys.” Kripke called.

“Wow, Dean is being an asshat.” Misha commented as Jensen walked toward him.

“I think he has an excuse!” Jensen protested. “I mean, Sam did just abandon him.”

“Yeah, but do you know who never abandons him?” Misha grinned.

“Ok, you win.” The younger actor raised his hands in defeat.

“I mean this is kinda perfect timing for Dest-”

“Misha.” Jensen raised his eyebrows in warning.

Misha smirked, “I’m just saying.”

They walked close together to Jensen’s trailer; their hands brushing.

“Remind me why you’re so against it?”

Jensen sighed.

“I just think the show is about two brothers, and an angel who rebelled against heaven.”

“For one man?”

“What?”

Jensen opened the door to his trailer, and they walked inside.

“He rebelled against heaven for one man.” Misha repeated. “You can’t overlook that, Jen.”

Jensen paused, his green eyes meeting Misha’s cerulean ones, before swinging the door closed, and surging forward; but the second their lips met, they heard a knock on the outside of the trailer.

“Motherfucker…” Jensen cursed, before clearing his throat. “Yeah?”

“Kripke wants us.” Jared’s voice sounded. “He wants to talk about the game plan for this season.”

The brunette ran a hand through his hair, and sent a “be quiet” look toward Misha, who was laughing at the frustrated look on his face.

“Ok, gimme a second.” Jensen said, straightening his clothes. 

“Don’t move.” He whispered to.

Misha put on his best sincere face, and nodded.

Jensen cracked open the door, and started to make his way out of the trailer.

Misha rolled his eyes, and sat down on the couch.

“Ok, I’m back.” Jensen reappeared in the doorway six minutes later, and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, hauling him up, and slamming their lips together.

“Eager, are we?” Misha smirked.

“Uh, yeah.” Jensen said. “We haven’t been alone in eight hours.”

“You sound like a horny teenage boy.”

“Call me what you will.”

Misha moved to run his hands under his costar’s flannel shirt, when something caught his eye that made him freeze.

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asked, pulling away.

The older man pointed to a white scrap in between the drawers beside a dresser where Jensen kept his extra clothing.

The letter was barely visible, but it was still there.

He slowly walked over to the dresser, and picked it up.

Misha stared down at it before giving it to Jensen.

“You open it.”

Jensen looked like he was going to protest, but the look on Misha’s face must have convinced him, because he tore it open, and pulled out the piece of paper inside.

“Read it.” Misha said, backing away like it would spring up, and attack him.

“Misha, we can just throw-”

“Read it.”

Jensen sighed, and opened the letter.

“Dear Angel, I see that you’ve finally got yourself your boy toy. How cute. You’ve got yours, and I’ve got mine. Four to go.” He sucked in a breath. “George says hi. - The Devil’s Messenger.”

Misha ran both his hands through his hair, and down his face.

“He’s got George, and he’s going after four more of us, and he’s rhyming now? Oh, God. Oh, God.. Oh, God…”

“Hey,” Jensen said, pulling Misha to his chest. “He’s not going to get you. Not while I’m here, ok? He’s not going to get you.”

The door opened, and Jared ducked in.

At the sight of the two actors embracing, he grinned, and opened his mouth to say something, but Jensen held up the letter, and he quickly closed it.

“I’ll let Kripke know.” He mouthed, walking out of the trailer.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Jensen promised. “As long as I’m here, you’re going to be just fine.”

He pulled Misha closer, and rested his head on Misha’s dark hair.

“I’ve got you... I’ve got you.”

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

 

The Messenger threw Kurt down on the ground beside Julie.

“You won’t get away with this.” The older actor snarled.

The serial killed smirked.

“You really think so? Oh well. Guess we’ll have to wait and see, Zachariah.”

He stomped his foot down as as hard as he could onto Kurt’s hand, and smiled when he heard the bone break.

“Bye, bye.” He waved, walking back up the cellar door, and closing it; leaving his two hostages in darkness.

“Two down, three to go.”

 

 

…………………………………………………………………

Ok that fan I wrote, that fan- that fan is me. I am Sara, and Sara is me.

Lmao that is exactly how I would have probably reacted.

Misha and Jensen being all domestic and flirty is my life.

The Messenger……. *sigh* I’m just going to leave that right there.

Poor Misha :(

Three more angels to go hehe.

 

Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease review.

I makes me write faster, and honestly, due to lack of reviews I’m like *Cas’s sad puppy dog face*

P.s Sorry for typos, I’m a piece of shit.


	5. Pick Your Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! THERE IS A RAPE SCENE IN THIS CHAPTER!

The Messenger grinded his teeth together as he dragged Robert Wisdom down the stairs.

The bastard was hard to move.

When they finally reached the bottom, he tugged the man over to the wall, and chained him next to his other captives.

The serial killer picked a pail of water he'd kept to the side, and walked to the center of the room; throwing some on each one the people on the floor.

Kurt was the first to wake, followed by Julie, Demore, and Tahmoh.

"Wakie, wakie." The Messenger called in a sing -tone.

Tahmoh immediately began to pull on his chains.

"Let us go!" He demanded.

The offender laughed.

"I'll keep your request in mind."

He kicked Robert in the side, tired of waiting for him to fully wake up.

The dark skinned man's eyes fluttered open.

"Where am I?" He asked, panic creeping into his voice.

The offender smiled.

"Welcome to the Fallen Angels club. Our jackets are still in the mail."

Robert stared up at the man in shock.

"You? Are you the-"

"Yeah, can we skip this part, and get to the torturing?"

The Messenger strolled over to a closet in the far right corner of the room, and opened it leisurely.

He reached inside, and pulled out a young man with blood all over his body.

"Everyone, meet George. Say hello to the class, George."

The director's assistant gave a small wave that looked like it was causing him great pain. 

The serial killer grabbed the top of George's shirt, and dragged him into the center of the room.

The man took a knife out of his pocket, and ran it across George's throat casually.

"Now we're going to play a game called "Do want I want, or I'll kill this dashing young gentleman". Sound like plan?"

No one in the room answered.

The Messenger sighed before plunging the knife into George's arm.

George cried out in pain, and fresh blood trickled down his body like a rain shower.

"Stop!" Kurt yelled.

"Let's try this again. Sound like a plan?"

Five heads nodded quickly.

"Good."

The man's cold eyes scanned the room.

They landed on Julie McNiven's face.

She was visibly terrified.

"Alright, Darlin," the Messenger drawled. "I'm going to give you a choice, and you will have thirty seconds to decide. Sound fair?"

The redhead agreed immediately.

Making sure that he still had a steel grip on George, the man knelt down in front out her.

He reached out, and ran his hand lovingly across her face.

"Which one of your friends are you going to want to die tonight?"

Julie's eyes widened, and everyone in the room, not including the Messenger, froze.

"What?" She asked in a hoarse tone.

"You heard me. You get to tell me who I should to kill tonight."

The murderer looked at her expectantly like he was asking her for scores from the last NFL game.

"You have six choices: Zachariah, Uriel, Ezekiel, Raphael, George, or yourself. Thirty seconds starting now."

"Leave her alone!" Demore shouted.

The Messenger turned, and gave him a look that chilled him to the bone.

"Next time anyone but this pretty little number talks, I'm going to have some fun with her with y'all as our audience."

The men all knew what "have some fun" was code for, and their mouths became glued shut.

"I can't... There's no way I could...." Julie began to cry. "I could never...."

"Or I could just kill everyone-"

"Myself!"

The actress tried to straighten up to appear more sincere.

"Kill me. I want you to kill me instead of them."

The Messenger chuckled.

"Are you sure? That's pretty noble."

She nodded, her body betraying her attempt to hide her fear and uncertainty.

He paused, and let his grip on George loosen.

Julie breathed a labored sigh.

"Alrig-"

The sound of the director's assistant's neck snapping echoed through the room.

George's lifeless body was thrown to the ground like a unimportant dish towel.

"You killed him." Julie whispered.

"I know." The Messenger whispered back. "A serial killer actually killing people. It's shocking."

"You said that you wouldn't kill anyone if I chose myself!" She cried.

"No, you weren't listening." The man kneeled in front of her again. "I said you got to choose who you wanted to die. I didn't say that I would actually kill who you told me to."

"You're a monster!" Robert yelled.

Without warning, the Messenger grabbed Julie by the hair, and pulled her up until they were face to face..

"What are you doing!?"

He smirked.

"Well, I wasn't going to- but you have your good friend, Uriel over there to thank for the great time we're about to have."

The man reached down, and unbuckled his belt; sending Julie into a fit of hysterical crying.

"Please!" She sobbed. "Don't do this! Please!"

He shrugged.

"What am I supposed to do, sweetheart? He directly disobeyed me. That has consequences."

The serial killer violently ripped open her shirt, and he could hear the chains behind him moving.

The actors were all trying to save her.

“Oh, and if you want make this as painless as possible, “ He turned his head so that he could look at the men. “You're going to have to cheer along.”

“What?” Tahmoh asked in horror.

“You heard me.”

The Messenger smirked.

“As I fuck your costar senseless, you're all go to cheer, and whistle, and egg me on to continue like you're watching your favorite football team during the Superbowl.”

The serial killer reached above Julie, and pulled two strings of chains down that had handcuffs attached.

He put one of both of her wrists, and pulled on the chains until she was suspended in the air next to the wall.

The man leaned down, and tied the chains to a metal peg on the floor.

"You don't have to do this!" Julie begged again. “Please!”

The Messenger ignored her, and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“This is going to be so much fun.” He grinned.

He slowly pulled the belt off his jeans, and made a big show of pants just enough to where he get the job down.

“Your turn.” He sang, reaching out, and forcefully tugging Julie's pants off of her.

Unlike himself, he took all of her clothes off until she was completely bare in front of him.

The Messenger nodded, and clapped his hands together.

“Beautiful. Simply beautiful.”

He leaned forward, and licked a long stripe in between her breasts.

Julie whimpered, and you could tell that she was holding back tears.

The Messenger reached down, and freed his dick from his pants, and slowly but surely, entered her.

“Ah, yeah. That's the good stuff, right here. “

He waited, and listen, before rolling his eyes.

“I don't feel very motivated right now.” He sighed, taking a hold of Julie's hair, and using it to slam her face into the wall.

She screamed in pain, and a line of blood dripped down from her scalp to her face.

“C'mon, ref! That was a bullshit call, and you know it!” 

There it was.

“There you go!” Robert's voice sounded again. “Keep it up!”

“Let's go, Angels!” Kurt joined him.

Grinning, the Messenger began a slow rhythm.

“Ok, ok, ok-” Demore said. “YES! That's how you play!”

The Messenger sped up slightly, and leaned closer until his lips were by Julie's ear.

“As you must know, I'm very good at this particular activity. “ He whispered. “So if your friends are on their best behavior- I'll make you climax with me.”

The redhead scoffed despite the tears that were rolling rapidly down her face.

“Never.” She spit out.

The serial killer shrugged, “I guess you need a demonstration then.”

He put his hands on her hips, and abruptly thrust upwards, hitting her sweet spot.

Julie moaned, and her eyes widened in horror.

“See, Darlin?” The Messenger smirked. “I can be nice sometimes.”

The humiliation made her cry even more, and she avoided his eyes.

“C'mon, Angels!” Tahmoh yelled. “You can do better than this!”

"You really think so?” The Messenger mused. “Well, I suppose you're right...."

The man began thrusting rapidly, making sure to hit the same spot every time.

Julie was barely containing her noises of pleasure, and when her costars saw that it was getting closer to the end, their cheers became faster, and more direct.

“Finish it!”

“Touchdown!”

“That's how you play!”

The Messenger was drunk on Julie's self-hatred, and loathing, and he leaned in by her ear again.

“You belong to me, Darlin.” He growled. “Say it.”

“I belong to you.” She whispered.

“What was that?”

“I BELONG TO YOU!”

“Good girl.”

The Messenger’s grip on her hips increased, and Julie was visibly coming undone.

“C'mon, Darlin.” He smirked. “No point in fighting it now.”

As if responding to his command, Julie tensed up, and unraveled around him.

She sobbed through her orgasm, causing the Messenger to climax on her devastation.

He pulled out just in time to spill his seed onto the ground.

The actress was bawling when he pulled out of her, and tucked himself back into his pants.

“Ah, don't cry, sweetheart.” He grinned, unchaining her from the wall, picking up her naked body, and putting her back where she has previously been before the whole ordeal.

The serial killer threw her clothes down beside her, and stretched out his arms.

“Well, that was fun.”

He kicked George's body out of the way, and walked to the back of the room.

The man returned with a folding chair, and sat it down in the middle of the room.

He pulled two vials of liquid from inside his checkered shirt, and walked in front of the actors.

“Now we get to the interesting part.” He said.

“You see, we're at the part of my plan where I need an angel for a very important artistic explosion.” He shook his head like he was regretful. “Unfortunately, that means one you have to, how do I put this-die.”

The Messenger crouched down in between Kurt, and Julie.

“Considering I brought you two in first, I thought I'd give you the privilege of this assignment.”

He held out the two bottles.

“Now one of these is water, and one is sulfuric acid. I don't know which one is which, so it's anyone's game. “

He smiled brightly.

“Go ahead. Pick your poison.”

The actors glanced at each other before reaching out, and taking one of the vials.

The Messenger went back, and sat down in his chair smoothly.

“Bottoms up!”

Julie, and Kurt hesitated before downing the two liquids at the same time.

Three seconds later, Julie began shaking uncontrollably, and foam began to seep from her mouth.

Her costars watched in horror as her eyes rolled back into her head before she sunk to the ground.

The Messenger giggled.

“Spoiler alert- she's not sleeping.”

“You fucking sick bastard!” Demore shouted with tears running down his face.

“But doesn't she look so cute?” The Messenger pouted. “All naked, and dead. Honestly, I could just eat her up!”

“And to think I used to look up to you!” Tahmoh hissed. “I used to think we were friends!”

“The more you know!” The Messenger waved his hands in front of him dramatically.

He looked down the watch on his wrist, and sighed.

“Unfortunately, I have somewhere I need to be, and our time is up for tonight.”

He waved to his captives, and turned to walk up the stairs, but turned back at the last second.

“I'll back for you later, Darlin.” He promised Julie's dead corpse.

Leaning down, he took her cold face in his hands, and gave her kiss on the lips.

Pulling away, and dropping her back on the floor, he grinned.

“Don't go anywhere.”

 

…….…….……………….……………

Holy fuck- OK! That was…. Wow.

It's times like these where I question my sanity, and morals.

I made this chapter completely about the Messenger, and his hostages because I thought it was important to see the real horrors of what's going on down there.

Basically everything about this chapter was sick, revolting, and disturbing as fuck.

Also, this was the first actual sex scene I've ever written, so it was probably horrible, and for that, I apologize.

PLEASE REVIEW! Don't just tell me to update! I'd really really really like to know how you feel about this stuff!

P.s. I'm sorry for typos, I'm a piece of shit.


	6. Devour

The set seemed to be deserted when Misha and Jensen pulled up to it.

“What gives?” Jensen grumbled, still half-asleep.

They could see the bodies of their cast members, and crew gathered into a little pile, and they all seemed to be looking at the same thing.

“Erik, what's going on?” Misha asked.

Their director's eyes never left their target, and he pointed in front of him.

Misha felt a chill run down his spine, and he slowly turned in the direction everyone was looking.

“Oh my God.”

Everything that he had been holding fell onto the gravel.

A long thick piece of wood had been nailed to the ground in the middle of their set.

From the very top of it, a single noose had been administered.

And in that noose… was Julie McNiven.

She was wearing a tan dress with a blue necklace to substitute for Castiel's costume, and her beautiful hazel eyes had been replaced with two gapping holes because hazel just wasn't as good as blue.

Her mouth had been lightly stapled so that it would look like she was still smiling, and the bright red lipstick was obviously comprised of her blood.

As if nothing could make matters worse, the missing director's assistant, George, was glued to her left leg to make it look like he has been crawling up her body to save her.

He was completely naked.

At this time, the entire crew had broken down into chaos and tears, but Misha couldn't rip his eyes away from the most grotesque part of the transformation of all:

It wasn't just Julie hanging. The skin on her back had been torn, stretched, and pinned to where they looked exactly like bloody angel wings.

A lone piece of parchment clung to the back of George's foot, and Misha forced himself to make his way over.

When he got in front of the bodies, a sense of nausea hit him in the gut.

The Messenger hadn't just set up the bodies, he'd bathed them first.

He'd washed them in Misha's favorite shower gel.

Snatching the piece of paper, and running in the opposite direction, he ran straight into Jensen's arms.

“Misha, I've been looking everywhere for you!” His best friend scolded.

When he saw the letter, and Misha's crumbling composure, Jensen’s attitude immediately changed.

“Babe, I'm so sorry. Are you ok? What can I do to make it better?”

Misha didn't speak for several seconds before leaning up and kissing Jensen softly.

“Just you… Being here…. Makes me feel safer….”

He looked down at the letter in his hand, and took a shuddering breath before he opened it.

~~

1 down but George didn't count  
I could really some food right now.  
Didn't she look pretty? All bloody and cold?  
Fasten your seat belts, angels and demons.  
This shtick is getting old.

-The Devil's Messenger

P.s. Misha, why the long face? You're the reason this is all happening in the first place xoXo

~~

Misha stared at the letter for several seconds in silence before falling back against Jensen. 

“This… This is all my fault….” He said blankly.

“Shhhh,” Jensen ran a soothing hand through his hair. “That psychopath’s actions are his own fault. Not yours are all.”

“Yeah.” Jared added. “You have no control over what he does!”

“Fuck him!” Richard added, and was joined by everyone who was standing around.

Misha gave a humorless chuckle.

“Thanks, guys.”

He stumbled out of his castmate's embrace, send teetered toward his trailer.

“I just need to rest… a little while….”

“We understand.” His friends agreed.

Misha looked over his shoulder at Jensen, and smiled.

“Coming?”

 

….……………………………………………………

 

(3:45)

“What's your name, son?”

The Messenger struggled with the cables he was messing with, and decided to make small talk.

“Tyler, sir.”

“Ah, Tyler. You know I had a friend in preschool named Tyler. Always took the crayons, that one.” The Messenger tsssked. “They never found his body.”

“You started killing in preschool?” Tyler asked in awe.

“Yep.” The serial killer shot the boy a grin. “No one suspects the perfect little angel who looked he way I did. “

He paused and caused Tyler to jump at how quickly he was in his feet, and in front of him.

“Most people would be terrified.” He observed. “But not you.”

Fast as lightening, the Messenger had pulled up a chair, and set it in front of the tied up boy.

“Now tell me this, Tyyyyyyler.” He purred his name. “When was the first time you killed someone?”

Tyler's eyes widened, “Ummm…”

“C’mon! You're about to die soon anyway! Might as well revel in your triumphs!”

Tyler's wide blue eyes kept their innocence for several more seconds between bleeding into a cold, evil stare.

“I was in third grade. This little boy had taken my lunch for the third time that week. We walked home together everyday. So I waited until a truck was coming to give him the nice little shove he needed into the street.”

The Messenger grinned, his canines terrifying in the church lights.

“I heard about that. Sad little story. Tell me, how old are ya, kid?”

“Nineteen “

“And how many people have you killed?”

“Seven.”

The Messenger through back his head and laughed.

“I knew there was something special about the way you tried to fight me off! You're the Blue-Eyed Demon!”

“So they have given me a name. “ Tyler chuckled, “I guess if I'm going to die, this is how I'd want it.”

The older serial killer frowned.

“Fuck. If I hadn't caughten you, and you saw my face, we could've been friends. “

Tyler shrugged.

“Such is life. I get that you have a plan you need to carry out. In all honesty, I've looked up to you for some time now. Dying as a part of your plan would be an honor.”

The Messenger ran a hand through his hair.

“Well, I guess the best I can do is make the death painless before I really get to work.”

He pulled a 12 inch blade out of his back pocket, and flipped it expertly in between his fingers.

“Before I do kill you, I thought I'd ask about what I'm doing to do with your body after you're dead. Blender or sushi? 

Tyler grinned a grin the Messenger knew all too well.

“DEFINITELY sushi.”

The Messenger pressed a button on the machine behind him, and rubbed his hands together in excitement along time to the scraping blades.

“Excellent.”

 

………………………………………………

Misha woke up the next morning surprisingly well rested.

Meanwhile his boyfr- Jensen was sacked.

They had decided not to put a label on it yet.

Misha walked into the kitchen, and smiled.

Jensen had laid out two whole trays of sushi for him to try.

He knew that he should wait till Jensen woke up, but he had never been one to be patient, so Misha quietly sat down at the bar, and reached out; taking one of the pieces in his hand.

He plopped it in his mouth, and groaned at the taste.

Fuck, it was so good.

He'd have to ask Jensen what the flavor was as soon as he got up.

 

………………………………………………

Yay! New chapter!

So this one was interesting for obvious reasons.

Sushi sounds so yummy right now, huh?

PLEASE review! Don't just tell me to review!

P.s. sorry for typos. I'm a piece of shit. There's gonna be a lot in this one.


	7. Abandon Your Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there is a child rape scene in this chapter.

“Why don't you tell them your name and how old you are, buddy?”

The little black haired boy shuffled his feet on the ground.

“My name is Tyson… And I'm six.”

Demore, Tahmoh, Kurt, and Robert stared at the child.

Tyson clung to the Messenger’s leg nervously.

“Where's my mommy?”

“She's sleeping.” The man replied simply. “She told me to take care of you.”

“What are you doing with this poor child?” Demore demanded. “He has nothing to with anything.”

“Well actually,” The Messenger smiled. “He's a dead ringer for Cas if he was older.”

“You're not going…” Tahmoh whispered.

“Oh, heavens no!” The Messenger grinned. “But I am going to need you as a willing participant in a little game we're going to play.”

He nudged Tyson.

“Don't you want to play a game?”

The little boy smiled, “Yeah!”

“Perfect.”

The serial killer picked him up, and walked over to Tahmoh, handing him to the actor.

“I'm not going to kill him. I refuse. “ Tahmoh whispered the word “kill” so that Tyson wouldn't hear. “I'd rather die.”

The Messenger sat down in his folding chair, and crossed his arms.

“I don't want you to kill him.”

His cold eyes flashed.

“I just want you to rape him.”

The room froze.

“Are you insane!?” Robert shouted.

“Why yes I am, thank you for noticing.”

“You sick piece of shit!” Tahmoh hissed, not bothering to censor himself anymore. “There's no way I'm doing that.”

The Messenger chuckled, and pointed to something behind him.

It was a wooden box.

He pulled out a pack of matches, and waved them around.

“Have you ever smelled burnt flesh, gentlemen?”

The threat hung heavy in the air.

“Don’t you see?” Tahmoh whispered, his voice strained. “I could kill him. He'll be disabled, scarred, and damaged for the rest of his life.”

The Messenger shrugged.

“You really think so? Damn, that's unfortunate.”

“Um, mister?” Tyson asked, obviously confused. “What's rape? Is it like tag? I'm really good at tag.”

“No, buddy.” The Messenger cut in. “It's more like hugging.”

“You monster…” Demore said. 

“Stop with the compliments! I'm getting embarrassed!”

The serial killer snapped his fingers impatiently.

“Now get to it.”

“Please.” Tahmoh begged. “He's just a child!”

The Messenger smiled, and reached inside his front pocket to retrieve a jagged knife.

“I'll tell you what,” He slid the knife across the floor to Tahmoh. “You can slit his throat instead of raping him. It'll be quick and painless if you do it right.”

His chilling smile stretched across his face like a Cheshire Cat.

“Of course, that would make you a murderer like me.”

“You're going to hell.” Tahmoh growled.

The Messenger smirked.

“Well I guess you'll just have to say a little prayer for me.” 

 

…………………………………………

 

“Ok, Tyson… I'm going to… Are you ready for the game?”

“Yeah!”

The little boy tipped his head to the side in confusion in a way that perfectly resembled Castiel.

“Mister, why are you crying?”

Tahmoh sucked in a breath, and reached up to touch his face.

Sure enough, there were tears rolling down his cheeks.

Tahmoh tried to smile but a choked sob tumbled from his lips.

Tyson reached out, and placed his tiny hand on Tahmoh’s face.

“What's wrong?”

Tahmoh didn't answer, instead laying the boy softly on the ground.

“Why am I on the floor? This is cold!” Tyson complained. “I don't like this game.” 

The little boy was startled when he felt his and being pinned on either side of him.

“Mister, what are you doing?”

Tahmoh was fully crying now, and his tears dropped down on Tyson’s face like rain.

“I'm sorry.” he cried, reaching down, and unzipping Tyson's pants until he could pull his pants down completely.

Tyson was now visibly scared, and he had started struggling.

“What are you doing!?” he asked again, panicked.

Tahmoh undid his fly so that his dick sprang out.

When he pressed the tip against Tyson's hole, the boy began to scream.

“I want my mommy! Where's my mommy!?”

Tahmoh looked up at the Messenger, and was sickened by the macabre grin on his face.

“You're doing so well.” The serial killer complimented. “Go on. Finish it.”

Sobs were leaving Tahmoh’s throat like a broken music box.

He pressed forward a tad, and Tyson's cries got louder.

“It hurts! It hurts! Stop!” he screamed. “Mommy, save me! Mommy-”

The sound of a blade slicing filled the air.

Tyson's blue eyes were wide with confusion as the blood bubbled up from his neck.

“Mommy… “ he whispered. “Mommy…”

The boy tried to take a breath, but he only succeeded in sucking in the red liquid that was pooling around him.

Tahmoh watched in anguish as Tyson tried to fight for his life before finally stilling.

“I'm sorry. " the actor said. “ I'm so sorry. “

He was thrown out of his thoughts by the sound of slow clapping 

“Very good, Gadreel. Very good. “The Messenger praised. “I didn't think you had it in you.”

“You are a pathetic excuse for a human being.” Tahmoh hissed, cradling Tyson's body in his arms. “How could you make me murder such an innocent person? A young child!? “

The Messenger smiled, all sharp teeth.

“Would you believe that I was lonely? It's so tiresome being the ONLY murderer around here.”

His smile widened.

“Thank God, I have you to keep me company now. And you can't judge me now, Darlin. We're the same.”

Tahmoh's head hung low as his shoulders shook.

“Maybe you're right.” he whispered.

“Tahmoh, you're nothing like him! “Robert shouted.

“You did what you had to do to save that little boy from suffering.” Demore added. “Don't group yourself with that monster.”

Tahmoh stared at the blade in his hand before raising it to his throat.

“Isn't this an interesting twist.“ The Messenger grinned.

“Tahmoh, come to your senses!” Kurt yelled frantically. “You're playing right into his game!” 

The actor didn't answer, instead pressing the knife closer to his skin.

“I'm not worth the space.” Tahmoh said softly. “I'm a murderer. Murderers need to be stopped.”

“Looks like you're finally done being a pussy, and becoming a real man.” The Messenger taunted. “Get on with it then.”

“Tahmoh, don-”

The same slicing noise, followed by the crumpling of a body sounded.

The other actors watched in horror as Tahmoh slumped against the wall, smearing blood along the bricks.

The room was silent.

“No…” Robert finally whispered. “No….”

“YES!” The Messenger shouted with glee. “That was magnificent! The cries of pain from that child, the anguish in his eyes before he moved the knife- absolutely delicious!”

“I can't wait for the day when you get caught.”Kurt growled. “You… You psychopath!”

The Messenger smiled.

“Oh Zachariah, I'm not going to get caught. You see, I have the perfect cover.” 

He stretched out his arms, and placed them behind his head.

“I mean, who would suspect an actor from inside the show itself?”

 

…………………………………………………………

OH. MY. GOD. 

That was a big fucking hint.

Next chapter is all about Misha and his friends.

P.s. Sorry for typos. I'm a piece of shit.


	8. Dance of the Dead

“C'mon Misha, it's gonna be fun!” Jared whined.

“Do you honestly think dancing is going to take my mind off of everything that's been going on?” Misha asked.

“Yes!”

Misha, Jensen, Jared, and the rest of their friends were sitting on Richard Speight Jr’s couch with game controllers in their hands; furiously pounding away in a mad dash for power in the wild world of Call Of Duty.

“You do love dancing, Misha.” Jensen agreed. 

“Yeah, and my uncle owns The Red Rose. We could get in for free and have VIP access no problem.” Richard added. “It's good to live your life while you still can.”

“Ok, fine.” Misha gave in. “But I'm not going to apologize for making the rest of you look bad.”

“Whatever!” Osric rolled his eyes.

“So… Nine?” Jared pondered.

“Nine it is.”

 

………………………………………..

 

(9:23 pm)

When Misha and his friends arrived at the Red Rose, he was extremely anxious.

Should he really be out dancing when a serial killer that was obsessed with him was on the loose?

“Hey,” he heard Jensen say.

He turned to look at his costar.

“Don't worry.” Jensen said with a smile as gave Misha’s hand a squeeze. “This is just going to be a fun night between friends. Nothing more.”

“So you're just my friend now?” Misha raised an eyebrow. “Good to know.”

Jensen blushed.

“You know what I meant, jackass.”

Misha chuckled as they walked into the club.

“Ok.” Richard said, pointing as he walked. “The dancing is downstairs, but we will be staying upstairs in the VIP lounge.”

Jared and Osric were already halfway to the dance floor, and gave half waves to show that they understood.

The room was dark enough so that you could really only make out someone's face if you were right next to them.

“Well, I'm getting a drink.” Matt declared, making his way over to the bar, followed by Richard.

That left Misha and Jensen

Jensen grinned, and his features contorted into those of a shy high school boy.

“So… Umm… Do you wanna… Urm… Dance? I mean it's totally cool if you don't want to! Just thought I'd ask! I can leave if you want...”

Misha rolled his eyes.

“Oh please. Let's just go.”

Jensen grinned victoriously as he was lead toward the mass of people.

It was Misha’s turn to grin smugly when it visibly occurred to Jensen that he had no clue to how to dance with a guy.

“Just follow my lead.” he said, placing his costar’s hands on his hips.

Misha wrapped his arms around Jensen’s neck, and pulled him close.

Drake’s “Hotline Bling” was blasting from huge speakers, and Misha swayed back and forth to the beat.

Always a quick learner, Jensen quickly realized that dancing with a guy wasn't much different from dancing with a woman.

After several songs, Jensen seemed to have a revelation. 

“You know that our friends could see us at any moment, right?” he murmured into Misha’s ear, eliciting a shiver from the older man.

“So what?” Misha replied. “Would that change anything?”

Jensen paused.

“No.” he finally said. “No, it wouldn't.”

“Good answer.” Misha said in a low voice, letting his hand snake down to Jensen’s crotch, squeezing slightly. 

Jensen sucked in a breath.

“What are you doing?”

“It just occurred to me that the entire VIP lounge is empty. Isn't that something?”

His hand began to run back and forth, and he grinned when he felt Jensen begin to harden.

“Misha…” Jensen’s grip on on his hips tightened, before he let go and grabbed hold of Misha’s hand, tugging him towards the stairs.

The older actor smirked at his sudden demand, and let him tug him up until they were behind closed doors.

Jensen immediately had Misha up against the wall.

“You asshole.” he growled, kissing Misha hard.

Misha smirked against his lips, and kissed back with just as much gusto.

Jensen grabbed his hips, and pulled him as close as possible.

When their cocks touched through the fabric of their pants, they both gasped.

They grinded against each other shamelessly, and the moans and groans that left their lips were absolutely filthy.

Misha felt heat form in his stomach, and he knew he was close.

“Jensen, I'm about to…”

“Me too.” the younger actor said, rubbing more frantically against him.

Misha quickly unbuckled both of their pants, grabbed several of napkins from the side table the were next to, and thrust them inside their pants just as stars and a white haze overwhelmed his vision.

“Shit.” Jensen hissed through his orgasm.

When they came back to reality, they were both breathing heavily.

Misha removed the napkins, covered them in more napkins, and threw them in the trash.

“Are you satisfied?” he teased Jensen, who looked absolutely wrecked.

“For now.” Jensen said, kissing Misha again. “But just wait until we get home.”

They opened the door, and were relieved to find that they were still the only people in the lounge.

Jensen composed himself, and gestured like a gentlemen down the stairs.

Misha curtsied like he was wearing a dress, and they made their way back to the ground level.

Jensen looked at his watch, “It's almost midnight. We have to work tomorrow. Should we go?”

“Probably.” Misha nodded. “Let's round up the guys.

They split up; Jensen took the bar, and Misha took the dance floor.

He found Jared and Osric at the same time.

Honestly, finding Jared was almost as easy as walking in a straight line.

The elephantine actor towered over almost everyone, and being the faithful man he was, he only danced with Osric.

Misha couldn't help but laugh as a makeshift dance battle between the two actors was taking place inside of a crowd of people.

Osric ended it with the moonwalk followed by a backflip, and Jared pretended to bow down to him.

“Guys!” Misha called, getting the attention of both actors.

Jared and Osric approached him, and he stepped forward.

“Momma Jensen says it's time to go.”

“Ok.” Jared chuckled. “Where are the others?”

Misha looked around, and spotted them trying to be inconspicuous by the door.

“By the exit.” he said. “Let's go.”

The three men made their way to the rest of their friends, and out the door into the cool night air.

“Man, I'm completely wasted.” Richard confessed, handing his keys to Jensen. “You drive.”

“Gotcha." Jensen noted. “I'll take Rich and Misha home, and you take Matt and Os home.”

Jared nodded with a grin, enveloping Misha and Jensen in a big bear hug that made them laugh.

Classic Jared.

“See you guys tomorrow.” he said with a wave when they reached their cars.

“See you.” Misha smiled, stepping into Jensen's Impala.

With that, they went their separate ways, and drove off into the night, blissfully naive to the slight amount of extra weight coming from the trunk.

 

………………………………………..

{The Night Before}

(4:34 am)

The Messenger smiled.

“Well, Zachariah, it seems that your time has come.”

Kurt scoffed.

“Fine. Kill me. Just get it over with, you psychopath.”

The serial killer frowned.

“That hurts, Zach. That hurts.”

He took out a roll of old cloth from behind his chair.

Walking smoothly over to the actor, he squatted down, and began to cover him in the dried material.

He whistled an unknown tune as he decorated Kurt, and when he was done he took a step back to admire his work.

“Not bad if I do say so myself.”

“What's your plan?” Kurt asked. “Turn me into a mummy!?”

The Messenger threw back his head and barked a laugh that made all four men in the room shudder.

“Yep, you caught me, Zachy. A mummified angel is just the ticket.”

“I'm not an angel.” Kurt growled. “I'm a normal man. You're a delusional maniac.”

The Messenger pondered his words as he let his fingers slip into his back pocket, retrieving a small box of matches.

“You really think so?” he grinned wolfishly, lighting a match and dropping it onto the actor, immediately setting him ablaze. 

As Kurt began to scream, the Messenger sat down in his folding chair, and stared into the fire with glee.

“Burn baby, burn.”

………………………………………..

 

When Kurt was done dying, the Messenger gathered up his ashy body, and threw him over his shoulder.

“Oh Zachariah, there's more in store for you, Darlin.”

Silent as a whisper, the Messenger chuckled as he opened the trunk door to Jensen Ackles’s Impala, setting Kurt inside softly.

Attaching the letter to his body, the Messenger closed the door, and adjusted his ruined shirt.

“Now who doesn't love a bloody good surprise once in awhile?”

 

………………………………………..

OK I HAVE A REQUEST!

If you could look back through the fic and tell me your favorite line that the Messenger has said that would be awesome :)

Mine is- "I know." The Messenger whispered back. "A serial killer actually killing people. It's shocking."

Can we talk about the sex scene? I know it was awful but this fic is basically my trial and error on how to write them. So far it's fucking awful, but hopefully I get better? Maybe? Probably not? Ok.

Tell me how you like the chapter: Review, review, review!

P.s. Sorry for typos. I'm a piece of shit.


	9. The Devil's Kin

Mark Pellegrino grinned as he walked up to his friends.

“Hey,” Jared yelled. “Look who's back!”

Jensen, Misha, and Richard all turned around, and big smiles formed on their faces.

“What's up, man?” Jensen asked, grabbing Mark’s hand, and pulling him in for a side hug.

“Nothing much, brother.” Mark replied. “Glad to be back on the set with you guys.”

The Supernatural set had to be completely moved because of the police that swarmed the old set.

He turned to Misha.

“And I heard all about… What's happening.” he said. “Are you ok?”

Misha nodded, “Yeah, for now.”

“So did Kripke already tell you what Lucifer is stirring up?” Jensen changed the subject. “We haven't gotten wind of what he's brewing yet.”

Mark’s eyes flashed back and forth between Jensen and Misha before he chuckled.

“I probably shouldn't tell you until we do the table read. Kripke made it very clear to me.”

“Misha and Jensen, Kripke needs you in his office!” a director’s assistant named Jerry called.

“Speak of the devil.” Misha laughed. “See you guys later.”

He and Jensen waved to the rest of their friends before they started toward the director’s office.

“What do you think he wants?” Jensen asked.

“Maybe he wants to make Destiel canon.” Misha quipped.

“Ha ha.” Jensen rolled his eyes. “As if that would happen.”

 

……………….

 

“We're thinking about making Destiel canon.”

Misha and Jensen stared at their director in shock.

“Really?” Misha grinned. “No joke?”

“Well,” Eric began. “The writing crew and I have discussed it, and we've come to the conclusion that maybe it's finally time to give the fans what they truly want.”

He turned to Jensen, who had remained silent since the news had been shared.

“Now, I know that you're against the idea, but-”

“Look, if you want to do it, then I'm cool.” Jensen cut him off. “It's your decision, and I'll roll with it.”

Eric raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Jensen. This is a huge step. If you're not on board one hundred percent, then we'll just go with plan B.”

“Which is?”

“Revealing that Castiel loves Dean, and let it remain unrequited.”

Jensen turned to Misha, who shrugged.

“It's up to you, Jen.”

Jensen sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Ok. Let's do it.”

Eric smiled, and Misha face broke out into a huge grin.

“Awesome. Let me get you the scripts.”

 

………………..

 

“I can't believe this is really happening…” Misha said with glee as he walked beside Jensen to the reading room.

“Yeah, me either.” Jensen shook his head.

Misha smirked.

“Well at least now you can kiss me in front of people, and says it's for the show.”

Jensen cracked a smile.

“There is that.”

Misha opened the door, and waved Jensen in.

“Ready go over the script?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Hey guys,” Jared greeted them when they walked inside. 

He took one look at Jensen and Misha's faces, and his mouth dropped open.

“No…”

“Hell yes!” Misha crowed.

“Destiel is-”

“Becoming canon, yeah.”

“Holy shit!” Jared grinned before looking at Jensen, who had taken refuge beside him.

“You ok with this, man?”

Jensen smiled, “Yep. Ready to bring it.”

“God damn…” Richard chuckled. “The fans are going to lose their shit.”

“That's what we're counting on.” Eric took a seat at the head of the table. “Alright, we're one episode away from the finale, people. Jared, you start.”

Jared closed his eyes, letting Sam Winchester take over before he reopened them.

“Dean,” he started. “how long are we going to sit here and wait?”

They cast plowed on through the script until they finally got to the moment of truth.

Jensen surprised everyone by beautifully portraying Dean’s confliction and self hatred into one confession without fail.

They finished the table read, and Eric looked very satisfied.

“Great job, everyone. Let's go make some magic.”

 

…………………..

 

The next day, the whole crew came back ready to shoot the second part episode.

Richard was only in a small portion, so he sat in the back, and watched.

The day went off without a hitch, and then it was finally time for the ending scene.

Lucifer had blackmailed Castiel into joining him and letting him take over his mind to spare Dean and Sam.

Dean had finally caught up to Lucifer, and they were having their showdown.

[“Now Dean, there's no point in being a sore loser.” Lucifer smirked. “Cassy is coming with me.”

“He's not going anywhere, you son of a bitch!” Dean growled. “Cas, say something!”

“Cas, look at me!” Dean pleaded again to no response.

He turned to Lucifer.

“What the hell have you done to him!?”

The Devil chuckled.

“I've simply opened his mind.” he paused. “But of course, I could make you a deal.”

“I'm not interested in negotiating with The Devil!” Dean snarled.

Lucifer shrugged, and pulled Castiel behind him as he turned to leave.

“Can't say I didn't try. C’mon, brother-”

“Wait!” Dean yelled. 

Lucifer turned back around, amused.

“Yes?”

“What's the deal?”

“Simple.” Lucifer said. “You come with me in his place.”

“What?” Dean spit out.

“Hmmm? Was I not clear enough?” Lucifer put a finger to his lips sassily.

“We're leaving here together!”

“Oh, this isn't Titanic!” The Devil rolled his eyes.

He proceeded to loudly hum “My Heart Will Go On”.

“Shut the hell up!”

“But it's all so romantic, don't you think?” Lucifer smiled. “Sacrificing your life for the man you love.”

Dean clenched his jaw, but didn't respond.

“I mean, you do love him, don't you?”

Lucifer reached out, and tauntingly stroked Castiel's hair.

“Don't touch him!”

“Well?”

Dean hesitated, looking into Castiel’s blank blue eyes.

Lucifer grinned before sighing dramatically.

“It's ok, he can't actually hear you-”

“Yeah, so what? What's it to you?” Dean bit out poisonously.

Lucifer smirked, extending his hand.

“So do we have a deal… Or not?”

Dean’s glare could melt diamonds, but he reluctantly grasped Lucifer’s hand in agreement.

“Deal.”

“Wonderful.” Lucifer smiled, pushing Castiel away from him like a discarded toy, and pulling Dean forward.

“Let's get this show on the road.”

Dean looked at Cas with unsaid emotion seeping from his green eyes before pushing past him, and walking away just as Sam rounded the corner in time to see his older brother disappearing with The Devil.]

“AND CUT!” Kripke called. “Great job, guys! That's all for today!”

The actors shook off their characters, and Jensen went over to Misha with a smile.

“Not bad, huh?”

“Not bad at all.” Misha replied. “Come Wednesday, all of our fans will be in comas.”

 

……………….

{Two Days Later}

Turns out, Misha was correct.

When the episode aired, it not only set a record for most views on a single CW episode, but it broke the fucking internet.

Twitter was so overwhelmed with posts that it crashed.

There were videos of people falling into their knees, and screaming “hallelujah” to the heavens.

Mark smiled as he read through his Twitter feed.

When his fans were happy, he was happy.

When he got to the house he had bought on location, he was greeted by his wife with a kiss.

“How was work?” she asked cheerfully.

“It was good.” he replied. “Great, actually.”

“That's good. Oh, honey? Someone left a package for you on the front mat. I put it on the counter for you.”

“Thank you.” he kissed her again.

He took the package to the couch, and used scissors to cut off the tape.

Eager to see the mystery contents, he hurriedly opened the box, and instantly regretted it.

Inside the box… Was a human heart.

The worst part wasn't the organ itself, it was the fact that it looked like it had been completely sucked free of all of the blood that should surround it, almost as if someone drank it.

There was a note stuck to the front of the heart.

He pushed down the bile that was rising in his throat, and plucked the paper free before opening it.

-Dear Lucy,

I've been meaning to say hello. You know, one devil to another. I'm such a fan of your work. I thought it would only be appropriate to throw my heart and soul into this note. Well, this isn't my heart, but you get the point. 

All my love,

The Devil’s Messenger

P.S. If you tell anyone about this, I'll be forced to kill you and your beautiful family slowly and painfully. XOXO  
-

“Honey?” Mark’s wife called, causing the actor to jump.

“Yeah?” his voice somehow managed not to crack.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“Coming!” he responded, quickly shutting the box, running outside, and throwing it into the trash bin.

He walked back into the kitchen and helped his wife set everything onto the table.

“What was in the package?” she questioned.

He froze, before shrugging.

“Just junk. Nothing important.”

 

……………………

 

“Jen, do you smell that?” Misha asked as he and his co-star were driving home.

“Smell what?”

“Something burned…”

They pulled into their driveway, and Misha immediately jumped out, and headed toward the trunk of the impala.

He popped the lid, and almost threw up.

Kurt’s charred body was lying there, covered in tiny scraps of what looked like paper.

“Jensen!” Misha screeched.

“What? What?” the younger actor ran beside his partner, and his face contorted in disgust.

“What the fuck!?”

They called the police, and within five minutes, their house was swarmed with police cars.

Recently, Misha had been in and out of police stations more times than he could count.

“Hello again, Mr. Collins.” a gruff voice said.

Misha didn't even turn his head when FBI investigator, Barbara Santiago sat down in front of him.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” Misha joked with absolutely no humor behind it.

“Mr. Collins, can you explain to me what happened?”

“I was driving home with my b-... Jensen, and I smelled something burnt. I thought something might be on fire. So when we park the car, I opened the trunk and…” his voice hitched. “Our friend, Kurt Fuller was there.”

“From what we can tell, the body had been in the car for several days. You didn't notice the smell until now?”

“I'm guessing that it took a while for the smell to set in.” Misha shrugged.

“Do you expect us to believe that?”

Misha's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched.

“Are you suggesting that I had something to do with this? I'm the victim! This psychopath is targeting me! If you need an alibi, I can account for my whereabouts every single day and night that the killings happened with witnesses!”

Detective Santiago stared at him before letting it go.

“There was a note taped to the bottom of the body. Did you get a chance to read it?”

“Sorry, I was too busy trying not to throw up.” Misha said bitterly.

“Would you like to hear what it said?”

Misha hesitated.

“Yes.” he finally said.

The detective took out the note that was in an evidence bag.

-  
“Dear Angel,

Two angels left in Devil’s fire  
What a perfect thing to light desire  
Baby, there's always a lesson to learn  
Like the clown king said- everything burns

Love,

The Devil’s Messenger xOXo  
-

Detective Santiago looked up from the paper to Misha, who was clearly traumatized.

“The Messenger stated before that he had five captives.” she said. “He's killed Julie McNiven and most recently, Kurt Fuller. However, he said that he only has two angels left. That means that-”

“There's going to be another body.” Misha finished.

The female detective clasped her hands together smoothly on the table between them.

“Robert Wisdom, Demore Barnes, and Tahmoh Penikett are all missing from their homes.”

“He's going after everyone who played an angel on Supernatural…” Misha said in horror. “And you've got no leads? What about Julie? There must have been DNA on her body?”

“Ms. McNiven’s body was bleached with sodium hydroxide beyond comprehension, and although there were signs of rape, The Messenger also bleached and burned her vaginal area to the point where it was unrecognizable, and any evidence was destroyed. This man is extremely skilled and very careful.” Santiago said solemnly. “In fact, all of his bodies are given the same treatment to make it impossible to extract clear DNA.”

Misha sat in silence several moments before speaking again.

“How many of my friend’s funerals am I going to have to go to before this man is caught?” he whispered softly.

He looked up again, blue eyes filled with sorrow.

“Can you at least tell me if you have any suspects?”

Detective Santiago shook her head, and a piece of dark hair fell out of the stiff bun she had formed it into.

“We are looking into several people, yes. As to who they are, I'm afraid that's classified.”

Misha sighed deeply.

“Fair enough. If you have no further questions, can I please go home now?”

Santiago nodded, “Yes, Mr. Collins, you are free to go. We will call you if we need anything more from you.”

 

…………………

 

“Jen?” Misha said quietly when they got home.

They had to call a taxi because Jensen's Impala was classified as evidence.

“Yeah?”

“I don't want us to be a secret anymore. This psychopath is after me, and he's not going to stop playing this game until he's caught, or I'm dead.” Misha pulled Jensen into a tight hug. 

“I don't want to die without the world knowing how much I…”

He pulled away gently so that he could look Jensen in the eyes.

“How much I love you.”

Jensen smiled, and leaned in to kiss Misha softly.

“I love you too. And I was thinking the same thing.”

They got ready for bed in silence.

“You know,” Jensen began, sliding into bed next to Misha, and tucking the older actor against his chest. “As long as I'm alive, I'm going to do everything in my power to keep you safe. Even if it means that I'm the next victim.”

Misha didn't respond at first, simply moving closer to his boyfriend.

“Why do I have a feeling like he's so close that he's hiding right in front of me?”

 

…………………

 

“You know that I have functioning eyes, right?” Jared said with a smirk. “I can see what’s right in front of me.”

“So you knew?” Jensen asked.

Jared leaned back in his chair, and took a long sip of his beer.

“Yep. I'm pretty sure everyone knows. It's pretty obvious. You stare at each other now more than Dean and Cas do, and you're more touchy feely. I figured if you weren't already together then it was only a matter of time.”

Jensen looked somewhat disappointed, but Misha was cracking up.

“I'd say this is perfect timing to film the finale, wouldn't you say, Jen?” Misha nudged his boyfriend. “Dean and Cas ARE going to have their first kiss today.”

The green eyed man sighed before letting out a small laugh.

“I can hear their screams already.”

Misha's eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat.

“What did you just say?”

Jensen looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“I said that I can hear the fans screaming already. They're going to go insane. More so than usual.”

Misha mentally slapped himself for letting his mind wander into that realm of thinking. The fact that he would even consider that Jensen was… No, that was absurd.

“Right, right. Yeah, they will.”

Jared threw his beer into the trash, and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“Well, we better go to set before Kripke sends out a search party. This is literally the most important episode in the show’s history, after all.”

Jensen grabbed Misha's hand, and pulled him up.

“Ready to make history?”

Misha grinned, and sent a wink Jensen's way that made the younger actor blush.

“Born ready, baby.”

 

……………

Sorry if the Destiel scene seems OC :(

P.s. Double sorry for typos


	10. Eyes On Fire

“And… Action!”

[ “What the hell were you thinking?” Dean yelled. “Why would you ever think it was ok to let Lucifer into your mind like that?”

“Excuse me, but from what I've been told, it was you who jumped into Lucifer’s deal!” Cas yelled back.

“I only did it to save you and Sam!”

“Well that's why I did what I did also!”

“It's not the same!” Dean growled. 

“How is it any different, Dean?” Castiel’s hissed. “You're always the first to sacrifice yourself, but I can't do the same for you?”

The angel stomped toward him, and Dean’s jaw clenched.

“You know what-”

And then Castiel was kissing him, and all of Dean’s anger was replaced with pure shock.

He froze.

Castiel pulled away slowly, looking into Dean’s wide green eyes.

The angel made a move to take a step back, but Dean’s hands suddenly grabbed the sides of his collar, and pulled him back into him; smashing their lips back together.

Years and years of hiding their feelings for one another poured into one single kiss, and when they finally came up for air, Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's; both men breathing heavily.

“I love you too.” Castiel whispered.

“So you DID hear what I said before I left, huh?” the hunter asked, pulling away with a smile. “Lying bag of dicks…”

“Halle-freaking-lujah!”

The hunter and the angel jolted apart to see Sam standing a few feet away from them with a big grin on his face, despite the fact that he was covered in soot and ash.

“I never thought I'd live to see the day when you two idiots could get over yourselves, and admit your feelings like two functioning adults. What a time to be alive.”

“Shut your face.” Dean growled without any edge behind his command.

Castiel paused.

“So what do we do now?”

The Winchester brothers faltered.

“Well, I suppose we could go back to the basics.” Sam smirked.

“Saving people, hunting things…” Dean grinned.

“The family business.” they said in unison.

The three men walked towards Dean’s Impala, and if Castiel’s hand brushed against his a little too much for it to be a coincidence, well… No point in denying it now.

“Ok, but who gets to sit in the front seat?” Sam asked. “You little brother or your angel boyfriend?”

At the word “boyfriend”, Dean flinched, but he quickly recovered.

“I don't care, I just want some pie. I’m freaking starving.”

Sam and Cas has a silent showdown before Sam sighed, and stepped aside so that Cas could sit in the passenger side.

When they were all situated in the car, Dean turned on the radio.

“Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas was blaring, and Dean quickly changed the channel.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “I hate that song.”]

“And… CUT! That's a wrap everybody! The season finale is done!”

The cast and crew all gave themselves a round of applause before heading their separate ways.

Misha made his way over to Jensen with a big grin on his face.

“We did it, Jen.”

Jensen smiled, “How? I don't know. We screwed it up about a thousand times for laughing.”

“Pretty sure Kripke would have killed us, and mounted our heads on his wall if we didn't get it right that last time.” Jared added.

“Great job, guys!” Richard appeared beside them. “The fans are going to die. Literally, some of them might actually die.”

Jared chuckled, “Let's hope not.”

“So Kripke and the rest of the crew are all going out for drinks.” Misha said. “Wanna come, guys?”

“I'm in.” Jensen said.

“Me too.” Richard added.

“Sorry guys, I can't.” Jared chuckled. “It's my turn to cook tonight, and Tom is gonna help. It's gonna be an experience, that's for sure.”

“Damn you for being such a good husband and father.” Misha teased, giving Jared a hug.

“See you guys later.” the elephantine actor said before walking away to his car.

“Alright,” Misha turned back to Jensen and Richard. “Who's ready to go?”

 

………………..

 

(2:42 am)

Daniel Grimberg grinned as he looked through his microscope.

He was ready to go.

When he had been assigned to try and find evidence supporting the suspicion that one of the actors from the Supernatural set was The Devil’s Messenger, he had been overwhelmed. 

Well, overwhelmed was an understatement.

He was top of his class at Harvard, but he never thought he'd be right in the middle of the America’s hottest murder case in history.

For the past thirteen days, he'd been piecing together what appeared to be a fingerprint.

It had been found in the hair of Julie McNiven, but had been disrupted by the sodium hydroxide.

All of the Supernatural actors had been called in and fingerprinted after the gruesome trail of bodies found its way onto their set.

Daniel took out the records of their fingerprints to compare it to the fingerprint under his microscope.

What he found was both astonishing and terrifying.

“No…” he whispered. “The Devil’s Messenger is-”

“Working hard, huh?”

Daniel jumped violently, and turned around with a slicing knife in his hand.

“Who's there?” he called out, his voice shaking slightly.

He heard a low chuckle, and his heart dropped when a figure stepped out from the shadows.

“I have to say, I'm a big fan of your work.” 

“You're the…” Daniel croaked.

“Devil’s Messenger. Blah blah, yes, I know. Blah blah, you're shocked.” The serial killer rolled his eyes. “Let's skip the introduction, shall we?”

Daniel clutched the knife tighter.

“You know, there are dozens of cameras all through this building.” he said. “One of them will catch your face, and the police will find you.”

“You really think so?” The Messenger breathed a laugh.

“You're adorable. I've killed forty-seven people, kid. Do you really think I'd come into a building unprepared?”

He took a step forward, and Daniel knew at that very moment that he was going to die that night.

The serial killer was already wearing a full body suit and gloves so that he wouldn't leave any DNA behind.

“I'll tell you a secret,” The Messenger pretended to whisper to Daniel. “All of the technology has been disconnected, and the only person that is still alive in this building- is you.”

Daniel sucked in a breath, and used both hands to hold the now shaking knife.

The Messenger sighed.

“See kid, you're doing it all wrong.”

He jolted forward so quickly that Daniel’s mind couldn't even process what was happening until he felt arms wrapping around his lanky body like a boa constrictor; strong and unyielding.

He tried to run, but he was now locked in a cage of solid muscle.

“You see,” The Messenger started, grabbing Daniel’s hands, and prying them apart so that only one hand was holding the knife. “You're holding it all wrong.”

The serial killer forcibly pulled the dull side of the knife towards Daniel’s stomach, and pulled Daniel's other arm above the knife.

“Now you can swing at me, while being able to block me at the same time because your arm is still up.”

Without warning, the serial killer giggled as he snapped Daniel's wrists like they were pencils.

Daniel screamed in pain, and his knife clattered to the ground.

“Unfortunately, you now know my identity, Danny Boy.” The Messenger shook his head in disappointment. “So that means that you can't stay alive. Sorry, Darlin.”

“Please!” Daniel begged. “I have a wife, and two little girls at home.”

“That is unfortunate.” The Messenger bowed his head before taking out a knife from under his shirt, and stabbing Daniel in the neck.

Daniel’s eyes went wide as he fell to the ground breathing heavily.

The Messenger pulled out his knife, and proceeded to wipe off the blood on Daniel's shirt. 

“Now let's see what we have here.” the serial said, leaving Daniel dying on the floor as he walked over to the lab table.

“Hmm, looks like you've got everything you need to expose me, huh.” He flipped through the papers lying on the surface of the table, and looked into the microscope.

The Messenger pulled forward a bag that had been hanging on his belt, and scooped the evidence inside it.

He peeked over the table at Daniel.

“Are you dead yet, Danny Boy?”

A small gurgling noise was his answer.

“Looks like you're a fighter.” The Messenger grinned. “Those are my favorites.”

He looked around the room until he found what he was searching for.

“Oh goody, what a treat.” he crowed, grabbing the container of diethyl ether.

He then spread it evenly around the room before dumping the rest onto both the lab table and Daniel, who was now lying dead on the floor with his blue eyes wide open.

“I wish I could dress you up like Cassie, but you're blond, and that's just not good enough.”

Taking out a match from his bag, The Messenger walked over to the exit with a grin.

“And it burns, burns, burns…” he sing-songed, lighting the match and dropping it onto the floor. “The ring of fire..”

The room immediately went up in flames, and The Messenger calmly walked down the hallway, zipping up his hoodie, putting on a baseball cap, and becoming just another face in the crowd.

He was half a block away from the building when he heard the beautiful sirens that belonged to police cars and fire trucks.

“The ring of fire…”

 

…………………..

 

Detective Barbara Santiago sat at her kitchen table, sipping a mug of black coffee she had just brewed.

She couldn't put a finger on it, but there was something about Jensen Ackles that she couldn't get out of her mind,

His alibis were all solid, and he appeared to be completely innocent, but for a split second in the interrogation room, she had felt something. A brief moment of indistinguishable emotion that shot through her body.

…..

(Two nights ago)

“Mr. Ackles, do you remember who I am?” Barbara sat down in a chair across the table from Jensen.

Jensen smiled politely, “Yes, Detective Santiago.”

Barbara returned his smile.

She noticed that his muscles were all noticeably tensed.

“You seem stressed, Mr. Ackles. Could it be because you're hiding something?”

Jensen frowned, “No, but can you please tell me… How is Misha? Is he doing alright?”

“He is handling the situation rather well, actually.”

Jensen let out a relieved sigh.

Santiago noted his distress for his lover as something normal, and she jotted it down in her notebook.

“Tell me, how did you stumble up the body of Kurt Fuller?”

Jensen took a deep breath.

“Well, I was driving home with Misha after work, and Misha said that he smelled something burnt. After I parked the car, he checked the trunk, and…” His face contorted into a combination of sadness and disgust. “There was Kurt.”

The detective noted that both Misha and Jensen had told the same story.

“Detective,” Jensen asked.

“Yes?”

“How close are you to catching this guy?”

Barbara’s facial expression stayed neutral.

“That depends on who you ask. I have a feeling that he's been close the entire time.”

Her gaze locked with Jensen's.

“And we're going to keep pressing until we find him. That includes every person we suspect.”

Jensen’s green eyes didn't waver, and if Barbara didn't know better, she could've sworn she saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

“Are you threatening me, detective?”

Barbara smiled.

“Not at all. Do you feel threatened?”

Jensen paused before shaking his head, and chuckling.

“Not at all.”

 

…..

 

Barbara sighed, rinsing out her coffee mug as she yawned.

Stripping out of her work clothes, she went through her usual nightly motions until she was finally ready for bed.

She stretched out her arms as she walked out of her bathroom and to her bed.

The detective pulled back the covers so that she could lay down, and what she saw made her breath freeze in her throat.

She couldn't help it.

She screamed.

The mangled corpse of Tahmoh Penikett didn't respond.


	11. Under the Surface

(2:37 am)

“You're adorable.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Christian Peters hissed as he was dragged into the Priestly Catholic Church. 

The Messenger smiled fondly at the seventeen year old.

“You're a feisty little guy. Even when you know you're about to die in a horribly painful way, you still insist on trying to stick it to me.”

Christian scoffed.

“You're probably used to be people begging for their lives. Well not me.”

“You really think so?”

 

“What, is that your catchphrase or something? Because it's stupid as shit.”

The Messenger cocked his head to the side like Castiel in a mocking gesture.

“You really think so?”

The blue eyed boy glared at the serial killer with enough hatred in his eyes to melt steel beams before he spat on his shoes.

The Messenger breathed a laugh before kneeing Christian in the ribs hard enough to crack a few.

“Just because I think you're cute, doesn't mean you can disrespect me.” he lifted the boy up by his collar.

“Go to hell.” Christian coughed.

“Already there, baby. Welcome to my kingdom.” The Messenger smiled, surprising Christian by kissing him on the mouth.

Christian squeaked, and bit down on the serial killer’s tongue.

He was shocked when The Messenger simply moaned into his mouth, and shoved his hand down Christian’s pants.

When the serial killer’s hand touched his dick, Christian felt heat rise in stomach.

“What the fuck so you think you're doing?” he breathed.

“What does it feel like?” The Messenger asked, pressing Christian up against the preacher’s podium. “I'm jerking you off.”

Christian tried to push him away, but his movement faltered when The Messenger began to slowly stroke him.

“Stop.” Christian hissed. “I'm straight, and you're a murderer.”

The Messenger, however, didn't stop; he just stroked faster.

“Now, there's no point in lying to me. I've been watching you. Your little girlfriend is just a cover.”

“You're wrong.” Christian bit out.

“A couple a nights a week you do this,” The Messenger squeezed his dick, earning an attempt at a stifled moan. “Pretending like it’s a guy. That, and the excitement of knowing you're being touched by such a dangerous man explains why you're reacting the way you are.”

“Shut up. You don't know anything.” the dark haired boy hissed.

He was getting harder in The Messenger’s by the second.

The Messenger used his thumb to press onto the slit on the head of Christian’s dick.

This time, Christian couldn't hide the moan that passed his lips.

The serial killer’s pace sped up, and the boy began to buck his hips with the motions.

The Messenger kissed Christian deeply, and in a rare moment of decency, he bit down his victim’s lip as a request for entrance, and surprisingly, Christian opened his mouth.

Their tongues danced together as heat pooled in Christian’s stomach.

“I'm gonna…”

“What?” The Messenger asked. “Are you about to come for the man who's going to kill you?”

Christian nodded quickly, and his hips bucked faster.

“Then come.”

Like the words were a trigger, Christian screamed when his oragsm hit him; and it hit him hard.

A white haze covered his eyes, and The Messenger continued to pump him through it all.

When he came back down to Earth, Christian looked up at The Messenger with confused eyes.

“Why… Why did you do that?”

The Messenger stared back down with a cold smile that made Christian flinch slightly.

“I like you.” the serial killer finally said, his hand darting out and grabbing Christian by the neck.

“So I'm going to give you two choices. One, you do me a little favor, and I’ll make your death as painless as possible.Two, I go along with my original plan. You have five seconds. Five… Four...”

“The second one...” Christian choked out.

“What?”

Christian’s were full of hate and embarrassment.

“I'd rather be tortured than help you. I don't care how good you just made me feel. You wasted your time.”

The Messenger paused before throwing back his head in a throaty laugh.

“You really think so?”

He took out a gun from beneath his shirt, and shot two bullets in both of Christian's legs.

“Of all of my victims, you have to be my favorite, kid.”

Christian’s blue eyes were leaking tears, but a sense of pride still resides with them as the serial killer dragged him up onto the church stage.

The Messenger stuffed a paper bag on his head, and Christian heard him walk away for a moment. He tried to use this time to scramble away, but he was losing blood fast, and his legs were useless.

The man returned with a sharp hook that was attached to a rope.

Without warning, the hook was plunged into his back, and Christian screamed in agony.

He was helpless as he felt his body being hoisted into the air in jerky motions.

“You look beautiful, baby.” The Messenger called to him, when his body was completely hung in place; rope sturdily tied to the ground.

“What're you gonna do…” Christian slurred through the cheap brown paper, his head blurry from loss of blood. “Leave me here to die?”

The Messenger laughed again.

“C’mon Darlin, you should know that I'm more original than that.”

He turned around, and opened what appeared to be a briefcase; pulling out a crossbow and several arrows.

The messenger scrawled a quick message into a piece of paper, and attached it onto an arrow he selected.

Loading the arrow into the contraption, The Messenger aimed at the boy and fired.

It hit the intended target –the boy’s heart– on the first try, and Christian was instantly killed.

“Bye bye, baby…” The Messenger sang under his breath, putting his weapon back in its case.

Chuckling to himself, he pulled out a phone and punched in a number.

 

…………………

 

The sudden sound of Misha's phone ringing scared the actor as he was driving back from the airport.

After the season has ended, he had left Jensen at the house alone so that he could go see his family. It had been a hard decision to leave his boyfriend, but Jensen insisted that he wanted to watch the house.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Why hello, Mr. Collins.” 

Something in the sickening smooth tone of the voice let Misha immediately know who he was speaking to.

There was some kind of interference that disguised the true speaker’s real voice, but it was close enough that Misha knew he had heard it before.

“Took you long enough.” he said coldly.

A low chuckle sounded through the phone.

“Yes, well, it seems that I just couldn't stay away another second longer. Tell me, how are you?”

“I’d be a lot better if a psychopath wasn't focusing some sick game around me.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What is it?”

“Was Jensen born with truly green eyes or are they contacts?”

Misha eyes widened.

“You stay the fuck away from him!”

He could almost hear The Messenger smile on the other end of the phone.

“Time’s running out, Darlin. There are only two angels left. I'm getting bored, you know.”

“Then stop this game, and turn yourself in!”

“Oh Darlin, you know I can't do that. Now if you excuse me, I have a church event to get to.”

“Wait!”

The line went dead, and Misha threw his phone across the car in anger.

 

………………

 

It was around six when Misha got home, he ran into his house to check on Jensen.

To his relief, his boyfriend was sleeping soundly in their bed.

Breathing heavily, Misha stripped out of his clothes and crawled in next to Jensen.

He wrapped his arms around Jensen's body, and the younger actor unconsciously nuzzled closer to him. 

Misha stroked his partner's brunette hair, and accepted that he wasn't going to get any sleep.

So The Messenger was someone he knew. He had to know them fairly well to recognize that he knew their voice quickly. That meant that it could be someone in the cast of Supernatural.

He frowned deeply.

The thought of any of his friends being that evil serial killer made him sick.

He looked down at the sleeping man in his arms.

It was impossible that Jensen could be him. 

Wasn't it?

 

…………………

 

The next morning, Misha woke up to crystal blue skies and the sound of birds chirping.

“Hey babe,” Jensen greeted him, snatching up a piece of bread that had just popped out of the toaster. “Beautiful day, isn't it?”

Misha smiled, “Yep. I'm gonna try my best to enjoy it, too.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, his phone sounded off with the catchy tune of “Hit Me Baby One More Time”.

“Hello?” he answered, picking up.

“Misha!” Jared's voice boomed, causing Misha to hold the phone a considerable length away from his ear.

“What's up, big guy?”

“You and Jensen have got to come jet skiing with me and the guys! It's gonna be sick!”

Misha laughed before turning to Jensen.

“What do you say? Wanna go jet skiing with the guys today?”

Jensen grinned.

“Um, hell yes!”

“We're in.”

 

………………..

 

(2:30am)

The Messenger walked down into the cellar with glee.

“Alright gentlemen, you're the last two angels, so I've got a little something special for y'all.”

Demore scoffed.

“Do your worst.”

The Messenger cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, so now you wanna be brave? Baby, you think you've seen some shit? Well trust me, you ain't seen nothing yet.”

“You're a disgrace to mankind.” Robert spit out. “Let me out of these chains, and I'll tear you limb from limb, you evil piece of shit.”

The Messenger threw back his head and laughed.

“What are you trying to do? Scare me?” The serial killer bent down next to Robert. “Honey, you can't scare the devil.”

He leaned back onto his feet, and flicked out his favorite knife.

“Now Julie, she was scared. You should have seen her when I brought her in.”

He threw one hand over his forehead in anguish.

“Please! Don't kill me! This can't be you! Don't rape me! Please!”

“Don't you dare talk about her!” Demore hissed.

The Messenger grinned.

“Hey, I'm just repeating what she said. Don't shoot the messenger.”

 

 

……………..

I do believe I have a new favorite line.

One I'm particularly proud of. Sorry *shrugs* lol

Only four chapters left, folks.

What does The Messenger have in store for his last two angels, and who the fuck is he anyway?

Let me know your thoughts below. PLEASE REVIEW OR I’LL SHAVE MY BEAUTIFUL (I hate it) HAIR OFF!!!


	12. Fatal Attractions

Detective Barbara Santiago was relieved that she could finally go home, and get out of hotel she had been staying in since Tahmoh Penikett’s body had been found in her bed. 

The FBI and forensics teams had went crazy, but they'd been kind enough to put everything back where it previously was.

Walking into her kitchen, she set her car keys in the key dish setting on a small dresser in her hallway.

She slipped off her shoes, but suddenly paused.

The usual comfy atmosphere of her house was off slightly.

She slowly began to slip her gun out from behind her back when a heavy, cold object that she knew all too well connected with the back of her head.

“Hello, detective.”

She fought the urge to suck in a breath, and was barely able to keep herself from trembling.

“Hello, Mr. Messenger.”

 

…

 

The Messenger had forcibly made her get rid of every weapon she had on her, and had already disconnected any technology that could connect her to the police.

“Sit.” he ordered, pushing her down into one the armchairs in her living room with the muzzle of his gun.

She reluctantly sat down, and when he leisurely walked around to sit in the opposite facing armchair and she saw his face for the first time, she chuckled.

“Of course it's you.”

The Messenger smiled.

“It's me. Ta da!” He gestured up and down her body with his gun. “You're looking very pretty today.”

The detective grimaced.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. I like to be a gentlemen like that to all my victims before they die.”

At the word “die”, Barbara felt a tear slip down her cheek.

“You know, eventually you will be caught and receive five bullets in your head for all the chaos you've created.”

“Sorry, I got that in a cereal box last week. But maybe they'll surprise me. Find out next time on Dragon Ball Z. Oh wait…” He cocked his head to the side to mockingly pout at her.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Sure thing, Darlin. Ask away.”

“Why are you like this?”

The Messenger smiled coyly.

“Well, I suppose it all started when my daddy missed my fifth birthday.”

“Really?”

“Now I've got a question for you. Where are all your loved ones?”

“I have plenty of-”

“You really think so? Because I don't see any. You're an attractive chick. You're not involved in a relationship?”

“Why is that important?”

“Ooooh.” The Messenger laughed. “Touchy, touchy. Looks like you will be missed. That's good. I always prefer killing people that'll be missed.”

“That's horrible”.

“I try.” he sighed. “Well, it's been good talking to you. You know, I considered raping you, but I figured that I've caused you enough grief, and frankly, it's a lot of planning. Killing you will send enough of a message.”

“Please don't-”

The gun went off, and Barbara sunk into her chair with blood oozing from the perfect hole that was in the center of her forehead. 

The Messenger did a little jig around her body while singing “Killer Queen” by Queen.

“Dynamite with a laser beam...” he hummed, taking about the sodium hydroxide he always packed.

“Guaranteed to blow your mind…”

 

………………..

 

Misha's mind was blown.

It had never occurred to him that Jensen could be The Devil’s Messenger.

Jensen was the one who had been there for him from the very beginning.

Was that all fake?

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Misha jumped from his seat on his director's couch when his boyfriend walked over to him with two steaming cups of coffee. 

They had all been called over by Eric to discuss something.

“Nothing.” he stammered.

He took the coffee Jensen handed to him with a smile.

“Thanks, babe.”

Jensen returned his smile.

“No problem. Why so quiet?”

Misha shrugged, pretending like nothing was bothering him.

He was a professional actor, after all.

“Just thinking about what's next for Cas and Dean. They're together. What happens now?”

“Hmmm…” Jensen mused. “Well, knowing Dean, I'm assuming he'll freak out and unintentionally ruin it with the “no homo” bullshit. We ended last season on an unusually happy note, so we obviously have to crush the viewers spirits immediately.”

“Right on the mark as usual, Jensen.” Eric’s voice appeared behind them. “If I could have everyone's attention, please.”

The cast and crew all turned to him.

He sighed and ran a hand through his short hair.

“After an immense amount of thought and grieving, I thought I should tell you all at the same time… The producers, the writers and I have decided that this will be the last season of Supernatural.”

“Wait, what?” Jared was the first to speak.

“It seems as though The Devil’s Messenger began his killings because of the angels our show created.” Eric said softly. “It seems irresponsible to continue fueling the fire. This way, we can give the fans the send off they want and deserve, while hopefully saving innocent lives.”

Silence. No one spoke.

“When are the fans going to find out?” Jensen finally asked quietly.

“We're going to hold a press conference the day after tomorrow at ten.” said Eric.

“Do you know what we're doing for the last episode?” Misha questioned.

“We're thinking of leaving it with a cliffhanger. Everything will end on a good note, of course.” the director said.

“The fans are going to be devastated.” Richard murmured.

“Hell, we're all devastated.” Jared ran a hand through his thick brown hair.

“Misha, what do you think?” Jensen turned to the older actor.

Misha paused.

“I think it's the right thing to do.”

“Well, I just wanted to let you guys know before we started the season.” Eric said solemnly. “However, I don't want this to affect how this season will go. Alright?”

Mumbled words milled throughout the room.

“He's not going to stop just because the show stops…” Misha said quietly. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

…………….

 

The next morning, they walked onto the set to find a special surprise.

“Holy fucking shit.” Jared breathed.

Demore Barnes and Robert Wisdom were suspended the top of the set by the lights, hanging side by side while facing each other.

They were both dressed as Castiel, and a huge wooden stake was shoved through the back of Robert’s head, through his mouth and into Demore’s mouth; the stake then went out the back of Demore’s head.

Just like Julie, the skin on their backs had been stretched out to create bloody angel wings.

Misha heard a gagging sound, and turned to see Jensen step back out from behind a trailer.

The dark haired actor flipped out his phone, and quickly punched a number.

“This is Barbara Santiago, I am currently not able to answer the phone, so leave your name and number, and I will get back to you.”

Misha growled in frustration, calling nine-one-one instead.

“Los Angeles police, what is the emergency?”

“Hello? This is Misha Collins, and there are two bodies on the Supernatural set!”

“Ah, Mr. Collins; this is detective Rick Vargos. We will be there in two minutes.”

…..

True to his word, the detective and his comrades arrived in record time onto the set.

“I know I already introduced myself over the phone, but I'm detective Rick Vargos.” the man shook Misha's limp hand.

“Where is Santiago?”

Rick hung his head.

“Santiago was found dead in her home this morning.”

Misha was going to be sick.

“Hey boss,” one of detective Vargos’s men called. “We've got another note.”

Sure enough, a single note hung off of a string that was tied around Demore's big toe.

The men pulled it down and brought it over in an evidence bag.

“Would you like to read it?” Rick asked.

“Might as well.” Misha murmured.

 

~  
Dear Angel,

As you can probably see  
Murder loves company  
You think that ending your show will stop my plan  
You should know that I'm not that kind of man  
Let give you a piece of advice  
Up until now I've been pretty nice  
Hell, I've been ridiculously kind  
And baby, my finale will blow you mind  
~

That confirmed it.

The Messenger was someone in the show.

Misha looked around at his friends and coworkers that had been with him since the beginning.

The room began to spin, and Misha’s vision blurred.

“Mr. Collins? MR. COLLINS!”

Then everything went black.


	13. Blood In the Water

Misha woke up on a couch in the break area on the Supernatural set.

“What happened?” he croaked, looking around for familiar faces and objects.

“You blacked out.” Jensen said, squeezing his hand. “I guess this shit got to you a little too much this time.”

“Was I imagining it or are Demore and Robert really…”

“Yeah,” Jared bowed his head. “They are.”

“The set has been taken over by the police.” Misha heard Eric say from behind him. “We'll move to a new location tomorrow.”

Misha sighed.

“That sick son of a bitch is so determined to ruin my life that the show is suffering because of it.”

“Do you think he also wants to destroy Supernatural?” Richard asked.

“I don't know,” Misha answered. “I think maybe he just wants to fuck with everything that's important to me.”

Eric sighed.

“Well I'm not willing to go down without a fight. Everyone else?”

The cast and crew shouted their determined agreements. 

“Alright, head home. Tomorrow we're going to have to work harder and longer than ever to make up for the time we lost today.” the director said.

Jared and Jensen helped Misha up off the couch.

“Thanks, guys.” Misha said.

“Anytime.” Jared smiled. “We've got your back.”

“I can take care of him from here.” Jensen laughed. “Just make sure to watch your back too, buddy.”

Misha watched as Jared proceeded to look at Jensen oddly for several moments before breaking out into a laugh, as well.

“Will do.” the large actor replied. “I've got to get home to Gen and the boys. They're already worried sick about me still being on the show after everything that's going on.”

Jensen patted Jared on the shoulder and he and Misha said their goodbyes.

“Ok cowboy,” Jensen said, turning back to his boyfriend. “Ready to go?”

“Fuck yes.” Misha said with passion. “Let's get the hell out of here.

The two actors gathered their things together, and headed toward the parking lot.

Misha was so focused on leaving the set that he didn't notice the cold eyes that were honed onto him.

“Hey, Jen?” he called.

“Yeah?”

“When we get home, I think I'm just gonna go to bed. I'm exhausted. You can have dinner without me, ok?”

“Alright,” Jensen shrugged, slipping into his impala. “If that's what you want.”

Misha smiled, and leaned over to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.

“What did I do to deserve someone like you?”

Jensen grinned.

“Oh, I think I'm the one who got lucky.”

 

………………

 

True to his word, as soon as Misha stepped into the house, he headed to the bedroom and collapsed onto the large bed.

“At least take off your shoes,” Jensen chided, gently sliding Misha's shoes off his feet and placing them in the closet.

Misha grumbled something unintelligible, and Jensen chuckled.

“Goodnight to you too.” 

 

………………..

 

(2:30 am)

It was a good night.

The Messenger grinned.

Everything was going according to plan.

All his chess pieces were exactly where he wanted them to be.

His angel was at the end of his rope, and the slightest push could send him down the rabbit hole.

Yes, his game was finally coming to an end, and his finale was going to be to die for.

 

………………..

 

Misha opened his eyes slowly.

Well, he tried to open his eyes, but something was covering them. He assumed it was a bandana of some sort.

He tried to move, but found that something was binding him to the chair he was sitting in.

An immediate sense of panic flooded his body.

“Is anyone there!?” he yelled.

“Oh yes, someone is here, Darlin.”

Misha flinched.

He knew that voice.

“No…” he said. “It can't be.”

Suddenly, the bandanna was ripped away from his face and Misha yelped.

His felt his eyes adjust to the light, and when they finally did, he saw that there was a single person in front of him.

“Oh god, no…” he began to sob.

“Don't cry, babydoll. We haven't even gotten started.” The Messenger said, running a hand down his face.

“S-so you're the Devil’s Messenger?” Misha asked.

“Looks like it, huh?”

“But... why?” Misha whispered. “WHY, JENSEN!?”

Jensen Ackles grinned.

“Tell me, is there anything better than knowing that the man you fell in love with is nothing more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing? A devil among angels? A serial killer?”

“This was all just a big game!?” Misha shouted.

Jensen chuckled.

“Baby, if you knew how long I have waited to find someone like you, you wouldn't believe it.” 

“What does that even mean!?” Misha cried, tears streaming down his face. “Are you going to kill me, Jensen? Is that your big finale?”

The serial killer laughed like Misha had told a hilarious joke.

“Do me a favor, Darlin, ok?” he said, bending down so that his face was right in front of Misha's.

“Wake up.”

“What?”

“WAKE UP!” 

 

………………..

 

“MISHA, WAKE UP!”

Misha's bright blue eyes flew open, and he sat up straight in his bed, his body flailing uncontrollably as he screamed bloody murder.

“It's ok, I've got you.” Jensen pulled Misha to his chest. “It was just a nightmare.”

Tears were cascading down Misha's face as he tried to take deep breaths.

“But you were… and I was…” he gasped shakily.

“Shh, I've got you.” Jensen repeated, rubbing his back.

Once Misha finally calmed down, Jensen pulled him back so that they were looking into each other's eyes.

“What was the dream about?”

Misha stared at him.

He stared into Jensen’s bright green eyes, looking for the coldness of the Devil’s Messenger.

Could it be that he was being played the whole time?

Could this man he had fallen for be the mass murderer that had destroyed his life?

“Misha?” Jensen asked again, breaking the older actor out of his thoughts.

“It was about The Messenger killing me.” he said, watching for a change in his boyfriend's facial expression.

He was only met with sympathy and regret. 

“Baby, I'm so sorry.” Jensen said, pulling Misha back in for another hug. “I promised I would never let him hurt you again. I meant it.”

Misha slowly wrapped his arms around Jensen's middle.

“I know.”

 

….

 

The next day, Misha was on autopilot.

He got got up, took a shower, brushed his teeth, and got dressed; all without looking Jensen in the eye.

He couldn't shake the ideas his dream had opened up in his mind.

“Babe, you ready to go to work?” Jensen's voice made him jump.

“Yeah,” Misha said quietly. “Let's go.”

“Wait,” Jensen softly grabbed Misha by the shoulders and turned him around. “Are you sure you're ok?”

“Yeah.” Misha replied.

“It's about that dream, isn't it?” Jensen used his index finger to tip Misha's chin up so that they were finally looking each other in the eyes. “I told you; he's never going to hurt you as long as I'm here.”

Misha stared at his boyfriend.

“Ok.”

 

……………….

 

When they got to the set, Misha and Jensen went their separate ways.

They both had to get in costume and into makeup before the shooting started.

Misha stood there quietly as the crew applied all of the finishing touches of Castiel.

This was the first day of shooting for the season, and he needed to pull it together for the fans.

Not only for the fans; for himself, as well.

“Alright Misha,” said Deana, one of the costume assistants. “You're ready to go.”

“Thank, Dee.” Misha smiled, stepping out onto the main set.

But his smile was hollow, and all that was going through his head was The Messenger’s letter:

“My finale will blow your mind.”

What could it be?

He took a deep breath.

“Calm down,” he whispered to himself. “Everything's going to be fine.”

“Ok people, everyone good?” Eric’s voice boomed through the set. 

“I'm good.” Misha heard Jensen step beside him.

He looked over to see Jared on his right.

“Good. Everyone get to their places! We're burning daylight!”

The first was simple.

Sam, Dean, and Cas walking through a field, and talking about their next plan.

Eric took his place behind the camera,

“And… action!”

 

…………………

 

The shooting seemed like it took days to finish, and when they were finally done, Misha breathed a sigh of relief.

“Alright, everyone needs to go home in pairs!” Kripke ordered. “Stay safe, guys.”

The cast and crew nodded before going their separate ways.

Misha walked away slowly, rubbing his temples with both hands.

“Hey babe, ready to go?” Jensen came over to him.

The younger actor frowned.

“What's wrong?”

Misha grimaced.

“Sorry, I just can't get The Messenger’s letter out of my head. He said that his finale would blow my mind, but all of the angels have been killed.”

He sighed.

“Forget it, let's just go home.”

He looked up at Jensen, and was met with unnervingly wide eyes.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You said all the angels have been killed...” Jensen said quietly. “All but one.”

Horror struck through Misha like a lightening bolt.

“Gabriel…” he breathed.

He turned, and ran back towards the set.

“Kevin!” Misha said, grabbing the nearest director's assistants arm. “Where did Richard go!?”

Kevin frowned in confusion.

“He just left. Eric told everyone to go home in pairs, so Richard went home with-

Misha gasped.

“Jared.”


	14. Motive To Kill

“Misha, wait!”

Misha ignored Jensen, taking his car keys out and running to his vehicle.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he hissed, jamming the keys in the ignition and taking off out of the parking lot.

Jared’s house was an hour away, and by the time Misha had reached the fifty minute mark, he saw the red and blue flashing lights of police cars behind him.

When he pulled up to Jared's large house, the car was barely stopped before he jumped out of it.

What he saw made his mouth drop open in shock.

Matt Cohen and Mark Pellegrino were hanging in nooses from posts that had been nailed to the roof of the house.

“Mr. Collins!” Detective Vargos yelled, stepping out of his police car. “You are not allowed a step further towards that house!”

“Actually, I insist upon it.” Jared's voice filled the air, causing all of the police officers to draw their weapons.

“There!” one of Vargos’s officers yelled, pointing to a speaker jutting out of the house.

“Nice job, officer.” Jared said in a mocking tone. “You put two and two together. Now send in Misha Collins or the only thing coming out of this house will be Richard Speight Jr.’s head in a box.”

“We don't comply with the demands of serial killers!” Vargos shouted. 

Jared made a clicking sound with his tongue, and the sound of rustling floated through the speaker.

“Say hi to the class, Rich.”

“Help me! Please!” Richard pleaded, obviously crying. “He's going to kill m–”

His pleas were cut off by a blood curdling scream and the snapping of bone.

“You see, that was his left hand I just broke, and I'm going to keep breaking bones until I reach his neck, which I will saw off at the base.”

Richard’s cries became louder, and Jared laughed.

“So I'm going to tell you again: send Misha Collins in right the fuck now.”

Detective Vargos hesitated, glancing around at everyone outside the house like he was gauging their expressions.

“Let me do it.” Misha said.

“Going once!” Jared sing-songed.

“Misha, no...” Jensen said.

“Going twice!”

“Alright!” Misha yelled. “I'm coming in!”

“What a good decision.” he could almost hear Jared grinning.

“Well, I'm going with you, then.” Jensen said indignantly, taking Misha's hand.

“Jensen, this is something I have to do on my–”

The sound of a gunshot filled the air, and Jensen's body hit the ground with a thud.

“Hope that makes your choice easier.” Jared said simply.

“You fucking monster!” Misha screamed in outrage. “Call an ambulance!”

He leaned down beside his boyfriend, who was bleeding profusely from his left leg.

“It's alright, baby.” Jensen managed to smile before wincing. 

“No, it's not!” Misha yelled, tears forming in his eyes.

“I'll be ok.” Jensen promised as a big red and white ambulance pulled up to the house.

Jensen reached out to Misha as he was being carted away.

“I love you.” he said.

“I love you too.” Misha whispered.

The older actor watched as Jensen was placed in the ambulance, and waited until the large vehicle sped away to turn back towards the house.

“Well, wasn't that touching.” Jared drawled.

“Shut the fuck up!” Misha yelled. “I'm coming in.”

“Great!” Jared chuckled. “Oh, and just to be clear- if anyone follows you in, I have bombs set all around my property that will go off and kill us all. Just something to think about.”

“Mr. Collins, you don't have to do this!” Detective Vargos said.

Misha steeled his features and set his jaw in a rigid line.

“Yes, I do.”

 

……………………

 

Detective Vargos and Misha came to an agreement that Misha would try and distract Jared while a sniper positioned themselves in a tree to shoot down Jared.

If Misha managed to get Richard out, the officers would rush the house.

Misha slowly made his way to the front door of the huge structure, and when he got to the front door, he forced himself to knock on it three times.

“It's open.” Jared's sickening smooth voice said. “And close it behind you when you come in.”

Taking a deep breath, Misha cautiously turned the doorknob until the door swung open.

He stepped inside the large house, slamming the door closed before peering left and right until he found what he was looking for.

Misha walked into the living room, and what he saw made his heart falter.

“Hello, Misha.” Jared said with a smile.

Jared was holding Richard’s head up by the hair with the actor barely conscious.

“Let him go, Jared.” Misha ordered, trying to sound strong.

Jared smirked.

“Sure thing, Darlin.”

He let Richard fall to the ground, and as Richard hit the floor, his eyes fluttered open slightly.

“Misha…” he rasped. “Run.”

But Misha couldn't run. He just stood there, frozen in place as he watched Jared pick up a metal bat wrapped in barbed wire and twirl it in his hands.

Jared looked at Misha, and grinned as he raised the bat over his head.

“This is for you.”

“No.” Misha whispered, before finding his voice. “JARED, NO!”

Blood splattered everywhere as the bat came down on Richard's head.

Misha stared in disgust as Jared hit him again. And again. And again.

The older actor watched as Richard's skull and brains mixed together to become mushy clumps synonymous with hamburger meat.

When it was over, Misha fell to his knees in defeat as tears streamed down his face.

Jared was breathing heavily and he threw the bloody barbed bat beside the corpse of Richard.

“Now,” the murderer sighed. “Wasn't that fun?”

Misha couldn't wrench his eyes away from the body.

“Personally, I give it a seven out of ten.” Jared mused. “There was no screaming but there was also plenty of blood and the look on your face was delicious.”

Misha closed his eyes, using his hands to force himself off the floor and to stand up shakily.

“Why?” Misha asked quietly. “Why did you do it, Jared?”

Jared grinned but didn't answer.

“Tell me why.” Misha said again to no response. 

“I TOLD YOU TO FUCKING TELL ME WHY!” he screamed.

Jared glanced down at Richard's body and chuckled, looking up at Misha from underneath his eyelashes.

“Because I was bored.”

Without thinking, Misha leapt across the room at Jared in rage, but the serial killer simply stepped to the side like a matador before grabbing Misha by the back of his shirt and slamming him to the ground, and in the process, smearing Richard’s blood on Misha's clothes.

“To tell the truth, I was waiting for someone like you to come into my life. And when you came onto set as an angel, well… I knew what I had to do.”

“You're sick!” Misha hissed.

“I understand how you could think that, I really do.” Jared smiled. “But we are meant to be together.”

Jared leaned down and crushed their lips together, forcing his tongue in Misha's mouth.

Misha almost gagged in disgust and bit down as hard as he was able to on Jared's tongue.

Instead of reacting in pain, Jared laughed and punched Misha in face hard enough to send him reeling across the room into a lamp stand.

“That's the spirit!” Jared smirked.

Misha watched as he reached behind his back and pulled out a gun.

“Is this the part where you kill me?” Misha hissed. “Why don't you just use that fucking bat?”

Jared chuckled.

“I don't want to ruin your pretty face, Darlin.”

“Go to hell.” Misha growled.

Jared grinned.

“Well, there's no place like home.”

It all seemed to happen in slow motion.

Jared pointed the gun away from Misha and set it to his own temple.

“Dear Angel,” he drawled as his expression completely changed. “I'm sorry.”

Then he pulled the trigger, blood splattered onto the walls, and Misha fell in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh shit!
> 
>  
> 
> Please review!


	15. The Kiss of Death

Misha opened his eyes slowly, adjusting them to the bright lights that surrounded him.

“Mr. Collins?” he heard someone say.

Squinting, Misha turned to his left to find a smiling female doctor.

“Am I in a hospital?” he croaked.

“Yes, sir. It seems like the strain of recent events were too much for your brain to process and handle.” she told him simply.

“How did I get here?”

“The officers brought you here after what happened.”

What happened…

It all came rushing back to Misha at once.

Ricard, Jared, the house, the gun, and Jensen–

Misha's eyes widened.

“Jensen…” he groaned, sitting up and moving to get out of the hospital bed.

“Mr. Collins, I have to suggest you stay in bed!” the female doctor insisted.

“Take me to see my boyfriend right now.” Misha ordered.

The doctor hesitated.

“Alright,” she finally agreed. “Stay here while I get your clothes.”

……………

 

Misha let a nurse assist him down the hall; a compromise the doctor had made with him.

“Here we are.” the nurse smiled, stopping them in front of a door.

“I can take it from here.” Misha smiled back.

The nurse nodded before he turned and walked away.

Misha pushed open the door to the hospital room, and his breath caught in his throat.

Jensen was lying in his bed hooked up to several monitors and a blood bag.

Misha walked over to him, and sat down in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs with the purple cushions that stuck to your legs no matter the season.

He reached out to hold Jensen's hand, and interlocked their fingers together.

The tv was on, and when Misha looked up at the screen, he was meet with the tearful eyes of Genevieve Padalecki.

Misha took the remote from the small table beside Jensen's bed, and turned up the volume.

“Jared wouldn't do this!” she cried. “He wasn't the one who kidnapped us!”

“And how do you know this?” a reporter asked.

“He had a different walk and he smelled different than Jared does!” Gen insisted. “I promise you– Jared was framed!”

Misha felt bile rise up in his throat, and he clicked the tv off in disgust.

“Poor woman is in denial…” he said to himself.

“Who's in denial?”

Misha jumped at the sudden voice, but relaxed when he saw Jensen's smiling face.

“You're awake.” he grinned. 

Jensen squeezed his hand before he looked at Misha seriously.

“Are you ok?”

Misha paused, scenes of blood staining the sides of his vision.

He shook his head.

“I'll be fine.”

He chuckled.

“And I should be asking you that! You got shot in the fucking leg!”

Jensen waved the statement away like it was nothing.

“And I'd do it again in a heartbeat.”

He smiled.

“But now you're stuck with me forever.”

Misha managed a laugh.

“I can live with that.” He winked at his boyfriend. “I think it'd be pretty hard to find another guy who's willing to take a bullet for me.”

Jensen grinned and his green eyes flashed.

“You really think so?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been fun! Hope you liked it ;)


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